Before Thomas
by Mishkin
Summary: "You are not alone. You never have been, and you never will be." When a girl is sent up the Maze by mistake, she comes with nothing but a vial of antidote in her hands and frantic scribbles on her arm with warnings for the Gladers about passing the "test." An episodic drama featuring an OC, some Grievers, Would You Rather questions, and a little bit of romance. Pre-Thomas. Newt/OC
1. S1-Ep1: Pilot

**Season 1, Episode 1: Pilot**

* * *

The air was silent; a cool breeze sifted through the trees of the Deadhead, and whistled through the cracks of wood in the few huts scattered around Homestead. The beginning of a new day marked also the start of a new month. As usual, the boys were gathered in a circle around a covered hole whose murky depths contained the next victim of their unsettling plight. Anticipation hovered in the air between the men, masking their anger and confusion towards whatever menace that behind their current condition.

"Why is it taking so long?" someone's voice rang out, peircing through the silence. All eyes turned to the plump figure of Ric.

"Slim it, Greenie," Nick, the group's self-appointed leader said, his eyes narrowing. "It'll come when it comes. No use waiting around for it if you don't want to, so just leave."

"You won't be calling me that for much longer," Ric muttered under his breath. The tall boy next to him elbowed him in the ribs, treading on someone's foot in the process.

"Oy! Watch where you're stepping, Newt!" Zart shoved in front of Newt and glared at him.

The air seemed to grow colder. On one side of the circle, Dalton and Ben played thumb war while P.F., Will, and Dave cheered their favorite on, taking private bets as to who would come out on top.

"Pin it down already, ya shank!"

"You almost had him!"

"IDIOT! HIS THUMB IS RIGHT THERE!"

On the other side, Minho and Alby were deep in conversation. How they were able to tune out the ruckus around them was anybody's guess. Despite the circumstances of not knowing where they were, who they were, and who did this to them, life persisted.

"YA BLOODY SLINTHEAD!" angry voices rose from the thumb wrestling match as Dalton took his victory with pride.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SLINTHEAD, SLINTHEAD?" Ben tackled P.F. and they fell to the ground which caused more hollars and hoots from the boys on the sidelines, this time capturing Minho and Alby's attention.

"It's always a bloomin' miracle when we make it to the next day without being killed by each other," Nick remarked. Newt shook his head.

"Better any of them than a Griever."

Nick headed towards the tussle, yelling, "Break it up!" in an attempt to use his position as leader to break up the fight.

"HEY! YOU SHANKS WANNA SPEND A NIGHT IN THE SLAMMER?" Alby spoke up, running in after Nick, much to Nick's annoyance. Ben and P.F. took a few more swings at each other, but gradually became bored with the fight and rolled away from each other with nothing more than a few bruises to show for it. P.F. wiped his mouth with a hand and spat on the ground.

"That's the last time I bet on you during a wrestling match," he said.

"Aw, shut up, P.F. That's a stupid thing to be betting on in the first place," another boy, Hank spoke up. "At least make it a real wrestling match next time. This whole "thumb" business is some sort of stupid. What klunkhead thought of it, anyway?"

"Slim it, Hank," Nick said sharply. He pointed at P.F. and Ben with opossing fingers.

"Now you two behave yourselves or I will personally drag your pathetic butts to the slammer. We don't have time to be beatin' up on each other with them things out there."

With their attention diverted, no one seemed to hear the familiar clangs and whirrings underneath the wood panels, signaling the arrival of what they had all been waiting for. It was Ric who first heard the noises, excited to finally be rid of the dreaded "Greenbean" nickname.

"The Box is coming up!" He shouted over the other boys' yelling.

"-I don't see any evidence of that."

"Well what the shuck do you call _this_ then?"

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"This is jacked! All of it!"

The Box came to a stop with a loud CLICK, and finally called attention to itself. Ric did the honors of opening the doors, and the boys peered in, eager to see the newest addition to the family.

They were met by an angry-looking boy with sandy blonde hair, arched eyebrows, and an extraordinary amount of freckles across his nose.

"What the heck is going on?" he demanded, seemingly more outraged than confused. "Where am I?"

"Welcome to the Glade, Greenbean," Newt lowered himself down into the box and held out a hand for the other boy, but was met with an accusing glare.

"You'd better tell me what's goin' on before I-"

"Before you what? It's one against thirteen, odds not in your favor," Newt replied. "I know it can be weird at first. We've all been through it."

The boy looked up at the others, and Nick jumped down to join them.

"You got a name, Newbie?" he asked. The newcomer didn't reply at first, but Nick didn't try to pry the information out of him. He knew full well what it was like to be lost.

"Gally," the boy finally said.

"Well then, Gally," Nick smiled, "welcome aboard." He grabbed one end of a crate. Newt grabbed the other and they hoisted the goods up to the others, repeating this until the Box had been completely emptied. Gally watched on suspiciously.

"You gonna stand there all day?" Nick asked. The Gladers went silent as they awaited Gally's reaction. After a moment Gally reached for another crate.

 ***thump thump***

"Hold on, what was that?" Will asked.

"What are those shanks sending us this time?"

*thump thump*

"Is this some sort of stupid prank?"

 ***thump thump***

"That's been going on for a while. I don't know what it is," Gally said. The others were appalled.

"You mean to tell me this thumping business was going on the whole time and you never thought to look for the cause of the problem?" Nick asked. "What kind of slinthead are you!"

"What the hell're you going on about? You aren't the boss of me; get off my case!" Gally replied smoothly.

"I AM the boss, you slinthead!"

"Are you always such an idiot, or are you showing off?"

"YOU WANT A NIGHT IN THE SLAMMER, GREENIE?"

"What a cheap threat! I'll bet your mother said the same thing!"

"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP AND HELP ME, ALREADY!" Newt shouted from the corner. Nick and Gally both glared at him, their faces red. With an eyeroll, Minho and Alby jumped down into the box and helped Newt lift the crate out.

 ***thump thump***

The three boys looked at each other.

"What are you waiting for?" Newt asked.

Minho shrugged: "I thought you wanted to be the one to open it."

"No, you can if you want."

"Oh for pete's sake," Alby shoved past Minho and Newt and grabbed the lid of the container. The wook cracked around the three nails holding it in place, and to his surprise, the task wasn't as hard as he expected. It was as if an imaginary force was pressing up on the lid from the other side, aiding him in opening it. Ben came up on the other side of the crate with a hammer and elbowed Alby aside so he could pry the nails up with the tool. The Gladers watched on with wary curiosity.

The lid popped off and Ben stared into the crate with wide eyes, completely still.

"What's wrong? What it is it?" Newt walked forward, but just before he reached Ben, the crate toppled to its side and the contents spilled onto the grass. The Glade fell silent.

"What the..." Dalton whispered, breaking the silence.

"Was this a mistake?" Hank asked from beside him. "They told us they'd only be sending one a month!"

Lying on the ground next to the discarded crate, gasping for much-needed oxygen was...

"A _girl?_ " Alby was incredulous. Needless to say, the rest of the Gladers were equally bewildered. Up until then, the only people being sent up into the Maze were boys.

"Please...you have to listen to me..." the girl's voice was breathless and frantic, the higher-pitch already throwing off many of the boys. P.F. whispered something to Will who stifled a laugh, and Ric had a look of fascination plastered on his face.

" _Please_ ," the girl continued, holding out her hand. "I brought you a vial of the antidote. It will cure the Griever sickness."

"WHAT!" Nick jumped out of the Box and went to snatch the glass vial from the girl's hand. "How did you get this? Explain yourself!"

The girl nodded. "I have to be quick, I'm losing my memory. WICKED doesn't know that I slipped in, but they will soon."

"What the shuck you talking about, girl? Speak up!" Nick grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

"What's this about being wicked, now?" Minho asked, coming closer.

"Listen to me, the Maze..." Nick cut her off.

"Yeah, we know it's a Maze, we ain't _that_ dumb," he said, "but it changes every night and its full of those said Grievers you just mentioned a while back."

"There is a way out, and you have to find it. They don't intend to keep you here forever, and they won't wait forever, either. You have to get out so you can pass the test."

"Pass the test?" Newt said. All around there were excited voices at the girl's words.

"A way out!"

"See? I told ya they weren't gonna leave us here to rot!"

"How long do they plan on keeping us here, then?"

"How do we find the way out?"

"Who _is_ they?"

The Gladers pushed their way closer to the girl until they stood in a circle around her. Nick held his grip on her and caught her with his other hand when she suddenly slumped forward.

"Hey," he said, shaking her. "Who are they? Tell me now! Tell me everything you know!"

"I...I can't-" the girl's eyes seemed to roll back briefly into her head.

"Can't? or won't?" Nick demanded angrily.

"No, I-I don't remember..."

"Don't give me that, ya shank! Stand up!" Nick grabbed the girl again when she threatened to fall to the ground. She brought a hand up to her head and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I can't remember!" she said.

"TELL ME NOW!"

"Nick, stop, you're hurting her," Minho said. Nick snarled in frustration and loosened his grip.

"I'm sorry, the air-the air is taking my memory. It happens to everyone they send." The girl's knees wobbled.

"Is she going to be sick?" Ric asked P.F.

"What do you mean, 'the air is taking your memory?' Is that why we can't remember?" P.F. asked instead of answering Ric's question.

Suddenly, the girl let out a strangled cry and collapsed in a heap at Nick's feet. He glared down at her and immediately rolled her to her back.

"GET UP!" He shouted, but there was no response. Minho nodded at Alby, and the bigger boy grabbed Nick by the shoulders and pulled him away from the girl.

"What should we do with her?" Newt asked, looking to Alby for the answer, which caused Nick further agitation. Alby eyed the girl, who seemed to be sleeping rather peacefully.

"The girl? Put her in a hut, I guess."


	2. S1-Ep2: Elizabeth

**Season One** **,** **Episode Two** **:** **Elizabeth**

* * *

Alby paced outside the meeting hut, anxious for news on the newest arrival to the Glade. The girl one, that was. Gally, though obviously temperamental, was less of a concern than the girl. She hadn't even given them her name before blurting all that stuff about the Maze and the cure for the Grievers' poison. She seemed sincere enough, but that could just be a trick for the Glader's. Whoever sent them here was cruel enough to isolate them from the world and steal their precious memories, Alby knew they weren't above stunts like this. Still...he wondered.

"Are you going to do that all day?" A voice broke through Alby's thoughts. He stopped pacing and looked over at Newt, who was standing a few feet away, watching him. Alby shook his head.

"Nah, I was just thinking."

Newt ran a hand through his hair and got straight to the point: "Do you think she's telling the truth?"

Alby didn't respond at first. Instead, and kicked at the dirt beneath his feet and grimaced. Newt patiently waited for an answer as while his friend struggled to find one.

"As of right now, we don't have a reason to believe her," Alby finally said, "but we don't have a reason to disbelieve her, either."

"What are you going to do with her?" Newt wondered. Alby shrugged.

"She'll get her own hut without a roommate, and live like the rest of us, I suppose," he responded. Newt crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at the other Glader.

"You don't think there will be any problems with that?"

"No, why should there be?"

Before Newt could respond, Ric came running up.

"She's awake," he heaved. Running was not one of his strong suits. Newt and Alby looked at each other, then followed the younger boy to the living huts. Many were half-built, and the ones that were completed were shabby and sloppily-made. Most of the boys didn't even have the luxury of a hut. There were two boys to a hut, roommates were decided upon who came up the Box next. If they had one, Ric and Gally would be roommates, seeing as Ric was the Greenie before Gally. It was a system that seemed to work fairly well, but Newt noticed Gally busy with constructing a new hut, no doubt cursing them all for the lack of a proper room. Close by was Dalton, who was teaching him all the ways of the Glade.

Ric led Alby and Newt to one of the older, more stable huts. Minho and Ben had been generous enough to let her use it until they could figure out what to do with her. Minho was standing just outside, and he greeted Alby and Newt.

"She's awake then? Has Nick been told?" Alby asked, Minho rolled his eyes.

"Nick doesn't want anything to do with her, and yeah, she's awake."

They opened the door and went in. The girl was sitting at the edge of the cot on the left, watching them with grey eyes as they piled in. She was surprisingly calm for someone who had just lost her memory and was now surrounded by a group of complete strangers. Her hair was blonde, and short-falling only to her chin in a cut so bad it must have been done with a crude instrument, maybe a knife.

"My name is Elizabeth," she said, and held out her arm. There was a bunch of writing in ink running from the inside of her elbow to the palm of her hand

"I don't remember writing this, but Minho thought you might be interested in reading it," she continued. Alby took her hand and they all read the words.

 _Rmembr-vial has antidote 4 griever only 1 use couldt get more get out of maze its a test immunes only world in chaos i wasnt suposd to get out i want 2 help you. i write this in the box dont trst them dont trust them remember. iwill no longer be wickedmother_

"Are we supposed to understand any of this?" Alby asked. Minho shook his head.

"I don't understand it either. I don't remember. I don't know _why_ I don't remember, but I do know that I'm not supposed to be here." Elizabeth withdrew her hand.

"'Immunes only world in chaos.' What's that supposed to mean, you think?" Newt mused.

"It means the world's in chaos, obviously," Minho said. "Maybe we're all sick and they're trying to help us.

"Or maybe it's all a bunch of lies," said Nick, stepping in through the doorway. "I mean, 'I will no longer be wicked mother?' Who's mother is she supposed to be?"

"Yeah, it's weird, but maybe that's not what it means," Newt pointed out, ever the peacemaker.

"Besides," Elizabeth added, "If I had a baby, I don't think I'd just leave all those responsibilities to come here."

"What if you were desperate?" Newt asked.

"Even if I was desperate. Mother's don't leave their children behind."

"Unless they were forced to," Minho said. "And you did call yourself wicked. Maybe you were a bad parent or something and this was the only way to give your baby a chance."

"Man, that doesn't even makes sense to _me_ , Minho, you shank!" Nick said.

"May I remind you that I don't even _have_ a baby?" Elizabeth pointed out.

"How do you know?" Alby challenged her. "Or did you not lose your memory like you said you have? You said we shouldn't trust _them_ , but maybe we shouldn't trust _you_."

"I'm not the enemy!"

"Says you." This time Nick grabbed Elizabeth's arm. She stood up.

"She's right," Newt said, shoving Nick out of the way. They all turned to look at him. "She's right, because who we were before the Maze isn't who we are now. It doesn't matter, anymore. Who we are now, _that's_ what matters."

* * *

"What idiot built these houses, anyway?" Gally grumbled. He plunged the piece of wood into the dirt and used the hammer he'd found to ram it into the soft soil. Since arriving in the Glade, he'd already updated one of the huts and had decided to start on one of his own. Of course Ric would have to share it with him according to these freak's rules, but if he made it big enough, it shouldn't be a problem.

"You're pretty good at that." Speaking of Ric, here was the little turd, now. Gally grunted and continued working on his project.

"Hank likes to build stuff, too." Ric remarked, admiring Gally's handywork.

"Look, kid, do me a favor and leave me alone." Gally finished with the wood and tested its strength by wiggling it with his arm. It held.

"I ain't no kid...Greenie." Ric was immensely pleased that he was able to use the nickname on somebody other than in reference to himself. Gally glared at him. Ric ignored him. "You should consider joining up with the Builders. We only have two of them: Hank and Doug."

"What are you?" Gally finally asked. He began tying a piece of rope to one of the the piece of wood, attatching a longer stick to it.

"I'm a Track-hoe," Ric said proudly. Gally looked at him.

"A what?"

"A Track-hoe. We're famers, basically. Zart's the head and sometimes Nick joines us, though he's usually more interested in what the Runners. They're the ones who go in the Maze and try to find a way out."

"I heard about those," Gally said, not wanting to admit he was interested in what Ric had to say. "What are the other jobs?"

"Will and Ben are the Baggers who basically bury the dead people. Dave's our Bricknick. You already know about the Runners. Minho, Newt, Dalton, and P.F. do that. And then there's Alby who's a Mapmaker. He work with the Runners and make a map of it, but apparently nobody else has seen it. That's pretty much it for jobs, until we get more people, that is."

Gally didn't respond, and Ric watched him in silence as he worked hard on his new project. After a few moments, Gally held out a hand towards Ric.

"Hand me that branch," he said.

* * *

P.F. wiped the sweat off his brow. It was almost time to call it a day. With both Minho and Newt gone, he and Dalton hadn't made as much progress as usual. Thankfully the Grievers weren't giving them much trouble today, otherwise things might be really bad. As he rounded the next corner, he pulled out a slip of paper and a broken pencil while running and marked a tally beside the number 8.

"Yo, P.F! You gettin' tired?" Dalton shouted over his shoulderl. P.F. grinned.

"You wish," he said, speeding up.

* * *

"We'll have to make a hut for you," Alby said. "Otherwise you'll be sleeping out in the open with a bunch of guys who snore louder than a herd of elephants."

"Oh yeah," Minho snorted, uncrossing his arms. "Because that's totally what she was worried about the most."

Elizabeth abruptly stood up.

"I have an important question," she asked. The boys refocused their attention on her.

"Yes?" Nick asked impatiently. Elizabeth bit her lip and shifted her weight uncomfortably.

"Is there a bathroom in this place?"

Newt's eyes widened; he hadn't been expecting that. He exchanged a worried look with Alby and Minho. Even Nick grimaced.

"We hadn't thought of that," he said. "We may have a problem."

"What sort of problem?" Elizabeth asked.

"Well, you see...we don't really have separate bathrooms or anything like that. Basically there's a clearing with some buckets and a row of showers that whoever put us in here set up," Newt explained.

"Oh," was all Elizabeth said, "that _is_ a problem."


	3. S1-Ep3: Klunk

**Season One** **,** **Episode Three** _ **:**_ **Klunk**

* * *

 **"** So let me get this straight: you want us to build you a whole separate bathhouse?" Hank asked. He looked at Newt, who was standing beside her, and rolled his eyes.

"I did not say that," Elizabeth said. "You can't move the showers because they were in the ground before I came. What I _want_ is a seperate stall-taller than me, of course-and stalls for the rest of the showers that cover your waist."

Hank ran a hand through his hair. "You gotta be shankin' me," he mumbled under his breath.

"I'm sorry to have complicated things, but I really don't want to see any of you in the nude, and I really don't want any of _you_ to see _me_ in the nude."

Hank turned to Newt. "Are you siding with her on this?"

"Yes," Newt replied, "because we don't want problems to arise. Think about it. Elizabeth is the only girl in a camp full of hormonal slintheads. Alby's organizing a meeting to talk about it tomorrow."

"A meeting to talk about pissing regulations?" Hank asked.

"Among other things, yes."

Hank shrugged. "Have it your way, I guess. I'll talk to Doug and we'll get working on it."

"Thanks Hank," Elizabeth smiled at the other boy and he flushed and grumbled some more under his breath before walking away. She watched him go and then smiled at Newt. "Thank you, Newt."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Newt replied, feeling heat creep up his own neck. They stood in silence for several moments before he thought of a question.

"So do you still need a pot?"

It was Elizabeth's turn to blush. Her whole face looked like a large tomato. "Yes," she said.

"Come on, then, I'll take you to one." Newt started walking and Elizabeth followed.

"Newt...is that really your name?" she asked suddenly. Newt looked back to see her frowning.

"What kind of shuck question is that? Of course it's my name," he replied.

"It's weird. I mean, did your mom look at you and think: 'he's perfect. I'm naming him Newt?'" Elizabeth let out a little laugh. It was a strange sound; Newt was used to the deeper pitch of the boys in the Glade.

"It's not _that_ weird," he said. "Elizabeth is weirder."

"You think?" Elizabeth's mouth curvedp up into a cheeky grin. "Elizabeth was a Queen. Newt's a slimy creature. Like a salamander."

Bloody woman. Nobody else ever over-analyzed his name. Elizabeth nudged his shoulder.

"Lighten up, I'm just teasing," she said, then let out a groan.

"Okay, this is one of the places we go to take care of business," Newt gestured towards a pot. Elizabeth looked at it and a disgusted look replaced her pretty features.

"Ugh, gross. This might take a while."

Newt raised an eyebrow. _Take a while?_ "I did _not_ need to know that."

Elizabeth just laughed.

* * *

Hank and Doug were busy drawing a crude sketch of Elizabeth's bathroom requirements when Ric and Gally showed up.

"What do you shanks want?" Hank asked, alreaday irritated that he had to work all day on bloody bathroom stalls.

"Gally wants to join the Builders," the younger boy said. Hank looked at Gally. Gally had the same critical look on his face that he'd had when he arrived. It was like he was offended by something.

"You want to join us?" Doug asked. He grinned, oblivious to Gally's attitude. He figured the guy was just a shy sort of Greenbean. "Good, that! We need an extra hand with this project."

"What project?" Gally asked, surprising Hank. He hadn't expected the Newbie to talk.

"We're building some stalls around the showers. They have to go up to our waists to cover our-" Hank was cut off by Ric's annoying voice.

"To cover our _property_! Blueprints for our blueprints!" He shouted, smiling like he'd just made the joke of the year. The others ignored him. Hank continued.

"I was thinking of making one long room-type of things surrounding most of the showers and leaving the one on the end for Elizabeth. That one we have to build as high as we can, with a door and enough room to put a pot in."

Gally nodded like he understood, but he jabbed a finger at the paper.

"Why not just create individual stalls with their own gates? That way there's more privacy," he said. Doug looked down at the paper and ran a finger over his top lip in thought.

"That could work too," he said.

"That's too much work!" Ric complained. Hank smacked him on the side of his head.

"You're a Track-Hoe, slinthead. You don't have to do the work!" He itched his nose. "Speaking of which, shouldn't you be in the gardens right now? Zart will have your hide at dinner if he sees you slacking off."

Ric rubbed his head and glared at the older boys, but he took the hint and wandered off towards the gardens.

"Okay, so if we made seperate compartments, we'd have to gather more wood," Hank said.

"Not if you made them smaller than what you have drawn here," Gally pointed out. He grabbed a pencil stub and started marking up the paper. Hank and Doug leaned in for a closer look.

"You shouldn't need more than a foot by a foot. We could even add little holders for soap."

Hank was impressed. So was Doug. He clapped a hand on Gally's shoulder.

"Welcome to the Builder's Guild, Greenie!" he said.

* * *

The boy sat shrouded in mist, kneeling in the fallen leaves around a wooden grave-marker. He reached out and touched the edges of the cross, feeling nothing but regret.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. You were my one friend in this horrible place and I let you die." A tear slid down his muddy face and he pulled back his hand to cover his mouth. He closed his eyes and tried to shut the memory from his mind. Grievers. Screaming. Fire. Blood. Destruction. The face of Minho. The face of betrayal.

He opened his eyes and read the word on the marker: **Billy**

"I promise he will pay for this," he said. "I promise he will pay."

* * *

The next evening, the Glade assembled in the meeting hut, prepared to listen to one of Alby's long-winded speeches about life in the Glade and the rules the Greenie-in this rare case, _Greenies_ -would have to follow. On one hand it was much the same as the regular meeting. On the other hand, it was an entirely new experience for the Gladers, especially when Nick started going over responsibilities and proper, appropriate conduct in front of their female Glader.

"Our rules are very simple," Alby was saying, watching Gally in particular. "Everyone does their part. Never hurt another Glader. You have to trust each other. And never go into the Maze unless you're a Runner."

"And don't you forget it," Nick put in, stepping forward. He eyed the two newcomers. "Slintheads get killed out there. We learned that the hard way."

Gally was an attentive listener during Nick and Alby's speeches. Elizabeth, on the other hand, seemed, at best, distracted. She continued fiddling with her hands, her short hair, and looking everywhere but at the leaders. Or any of the other boys for that matter. It didn't go without notice, and while Nick was a bit irked, Alby understood it to be a discomfort on the girl's part. Most of the Gladers were staring her down, whispering together about her, or trying to catch her eye. Ric in particular was watching her with transfixed eyes and kept on inching closer to her without realizing it. Alby even caught Nick and Newt stealing glances, curious.

He decided to bring it to attention.

"Your behavior is jacked," he said, "have none of you shanks seen a girl before?"

Elizabeth finally looked up, a tinge of red dotting her cheeks. The girl was smart; she'd been waiting for this since the beginning of the meeting, and must have figured that Alby was going to mention it otherwise she'd have brought up the subject earlier.

"Listen, I get it. Elizabeth here gets it. But if you want to keep respect ya'll better keep your hands to yourselves and treat Elizabeth like you would any other Glader. Everyone deserves to feel safe here, and we can't have that if somebody starts getting perverted. Ya got that?"

Silence ensued.

Newt cleared his throat: "That being said, if you see something, don't just say something, _do_ something."

"I'll make sure to wear modest clothing and hang out in public," Elizabeth added, causing a few of the boys to laugh awkwardly. Newt nodded at her.

"Everything helps."

More awkward silence.

Something tightened in Elizabeth's stomach, knowing the awkwardness was because of her. She'd heard the boys talking to each other with their slang, and she decided to add a word of her own. Standing up, she turned to the crowd, placed her hands on her hips, and said: "You klunkheads got that?"

Nick snorted. "Where'd you come up with that one?" he asked.

"Is that some kind of girl code?" P.F. spoke up from his seat.

"Don't ya mean slintheads?" Doug asked. Elizabeth shook her head and looked sheepish.

"It's, erm...the sound the pot makes when you...erm...you know..."

Hank, Dalton, and Ben burst out laughing. Newt and Alby looked at each other with wide eyes.

Minho grinned at Elizabeth cheekily. "No, we don't know. Please elaborate. The sound that _what_ makes, exactly?"

Elizabeth glared at him and crossed her arms. "Poop. The sound the poop makes when it hits the pot."

A few seconds of shock and then...the entire assembly errupted in hysterics. Just like that, the serious tone of the meeting had dissapated.

"HOLY-! IS THIS FOR REAL?!"

"POOP. THE SHANK SAID POOP!"

"KLUNK! AS IN THE SOUND-! BLOODY HELL!"

"I thought it was more of a kerplunk sound, myself," Zart observed. The boys cackled with laughter and started passing the word around in sentences.

"You klunkheads want a piece of this?!" Dave cried, standing up and throwing himself at Doug, who was sitting just below him. They fell to the ground in a heap, and were soon joined by Will and P.F.

Dalton, Zart, Hank, and Ben engaged themselves in a heated shouting match.

"YOU STUPID KLUNK!"

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR KLUNKHEADED MIND?"

"I JUST KLUNKED MYSELF!"

Nick and Alby desperately tried to calm the crowd and return things to normal, but it was to no avail. Nick himself started shouting klunnk-related curses into the crowd, which had the opposite effect. Newt and Minho were running around trying to referree the wrestling matches but eventually ended up joining in themselves. Only Ric and Gally were somewhat subdued, having striked up a conversation about their preference in girls. Odd. Alby hadn't pegged Gally as the type to discuss such matters. Elizabeth was laughing with the rest of them, and didn't stop her maniacle giggling when Alby went to stand beside her.

"You have officially broken the peace," he told her. "I might have to send you to the slammer."

"What, and ruin the moment?" Elizabeth laughed. "I'm an inventor and this has been my greatest achievement!"

Alby just shook his head and chuckled. "Welcome to the Glade, Elizabeth," he said.

* * *

Elizabeth was walking back to Minho's hut when Minho himself caught up to her. She smiled at him when he came up, and he returned it with a grin of his own.

"That was a pretty good word you came up with," he said.

Elizabeth nodded, "It was, wasn't it?"

"Listen, I was just going to ask you if you wanted to talk about permanent lodging," Minhos said. Elizabeth's eyes widened.

"Oh, I'm sorry! You probably want your hut back!" she said. Minho shook his head and grinned again.

"Nah, you can use it as long as you want. Actually, I wouldn't mind if you just took that one. Or we could have one made for you in a different area, seperate from any of the other guys."

Elizabeth thought about this. She finally shook her head.

"If you don't mind, I'll just use yours. I like privacy, but I'd rather be around the others in case something were to happen."

"Yeah, I get that," Minho said. After a moment he looked at her with dark eyes. "Are you worried?" he asked. Elizabeth blinked.

"Worried?"

"That something might happen."

"I don't know. Maybe."

Minho slid his hands into his pockets. She was truthful, at least, that much he appreciated.

"Are _you_ worried?" Elizabeth asked. She watched him, gauging his response.

"About what?" he asked.

"That something might happen."

Minho shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

Elizabeth smiled at him and they walked the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the hut, Minho bid her a goodnight and Elizabeth went in and shut the door behind her. She fell onto the cot and briefly wondered if Minho had a new bed, or was sleeping on the ground. It was awefully generous of him to give her his hut. She looked up at the ceiling and clutched the blankets to her chest. A fly buzzed in through one of the cracks and from somewhere in the structure the wood creaked. She smiled. Then again, he was probably glad that he finally had an excuse to build a better hut.

As she closed her eyes, she thought of the Maze and its occupants, and wondered why she was here. _Am I worried?_ She she felt an ache of loneliness in her heart. She allowed herself to be lulled to sleep by the night sounds of the Glade and found dreamed of a time when everything was warm.


	4. S1-Ep4: Food Poisoning

**Season One** **,** **Episode Four** _ **:**_ **Food Poisoning**

* * *

The week passed fairly quickly. The Builders, with help from Gally, made good progress on the shower stalls. Working took his mind off the problem of their imprisonment, but in all truth he didn't seem as bothered by the prospect as some of the others. The Greenie seemed adept in the area and despite an unruly temper, had good leadership skills. He and Doug got along particularly well and the two of them often began side conversations about ideas for future projects and plans for updating the Homestead huts.

After minor deliberation, Elizabeth joined the Track-hoes. She just walked up to Zart and started working alongside him one afternoon. She already had gloves on and was carrying a hoe and one of the few watering cans when she got down and dug up the rest of the hole he'd been working on.

"What do you think you're doing?" Zart asked, raising and eyebrow. He watched as she finished with the hole and stood up to look him in the eye. She raised an eyebrow back at him and smiled.

"Getting my hands dirty," she said.

And that was that. Elizabeth was a Track-hoe.

The boys were all unused to the female presence in the Glade, and though it was awkward at first, most of them were able to carry on as usual, and saw no point in treating her any differntly than Gally, the other Greenbean. However some, such as Ric, started watching their manners and appearences around the girl. Elizabeth seemed to get along with everybody, and liked to strike up conversations between herself and the others. She pretended not to notice when things got uncomfortable, and was good at laughing through it, which gave the boys a friendly impression of her. She and Gally were taught the ways of the Maze and the inner-workings of those that had lived there longer than they had.

* * *

During dinner one night, Dalton and P.F. were telling a story of their encounter with a Griever that day.

"It had to be the biggest Griever we've ever had to deal with!" Dalton said, spreading his arms wide in an attempt to provide visuals. Minho rolled his eyes towards Elizabeth, who was carrying a plate of food. She sat between him and Newt.

"What's wrong?" She asked him.

"They're elaborating everything as usual," he answered under his breath. Elizabeth shrugged and stabbed some food with her fork.

"It's a good thing I was there when the thing came up behind Alby," P.F. said. Alby threw a piece of his dinner at him.

"Shut up, that's jacked!" he half-shouted, half-growled.

Elizabeth put the food in her mouth and all at once her nose wrinkled and she made a gagging sound in her throat.

"What's with that face?" Ben, who was sitting across the table from her, asked.

She dropped the fork and brought a hand up to her mouth, coughing with closed lips. Without thinking, Newt smacked his hand across her back.

"GHRLCK," said Elizabeth.

"Man, that's messed up! You could kill her doing that!" said Zart.

Elizabeth continued making gagging noises as she forced herself to swallow the contents. Newt thwacked her on the back again, much to the others' distress, and Elizabeth began coughing violently. A ruckus started at the table.

"DO NOT THROW UP ON ME!" Minho cried, pushing his chair back into Hank and abruptly standing up.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" Nick shouted from his place at the head of the table. Several of the boys, including Alby and Will, stood up from their chairs and ran over to where the commotion was taking place.

"BREATHE! JUST BREATHE, ELIZABETH!" Newt said, thwacking her back again. Elizabeth brought up her hand to stop him from doing it a fourth time.

"I-I'm okay," she choked out. Her face was pink from the effort, but she grabbed the nearest cup of water and gulped it down.

"Bloody hell!" Newt said. "Are you _trying_ to give Minho a panic attack?" He looked pointedly at his friend, who was as far away from Elizabeth as he could be while still keeping within distance of the table. Minho's face was red too, but for a different reason. He glared at Newt when he heard his name.

"Sorry, I just..." Elizabeth's mouth made a funny shape. " _What is that_?"

"This?" Newt looked down at his own plate and contemplated. "This is...uh, well...you know, food?"

"It's just something I whipped up. Tonight was my turn to cook," Dave said. Though concerned for Elizabeth's safety and health, there was a small smirk of pride somewhere in that horrified look of his.

Elizabeth was incredulous.

"This is not food. Last night it was food and it was gross but at least I could _ingest_ it. _This_ , on the other hand..." she frowned and looked over at Dave. "I think this is poison."

Dave put a hand over his heart, as if physically wounded. "It is hardly poison, madame!" he cried. "Would I ever attempt something like that?"

"You're not smart enough for that, Dave," Zart said. Dave turned on him.

"Wrong!" he said. "I am probably the smartest one in this Glade, and if I wanted to kill you off, it wouldn't be by poison."

"Do elaborate," Minho said.

"Okay that's enough from you!" Nick slapped his hand down on the table and ate his own forkful of food. Elizabeth waited for him to gag or make some sort of indication of disgust, but she was met with an accusing pair of eyes.

"This ain't bad," Nick declared. Ric was the first one to follow Nick's example. He chewed on a piece of whatever-it-was and swallowed. After several seconds, he frowned.

"It's not that great," he said. Dalton and P.F. looked at each other and pointed.

"YOU'RE ON!" they shouted. They began forking food into their mouths and the boys around them started egging them on.

"FIRST ONE TO CHOKE LOSES!" Zart decided.

"THAT'S IT, I'M GOING TO TEACH YOU KLUNKS HOW IT'S DONE!" Hank started shoveling food into his mouth.

"WILL YOU FOOLS CUT THAT OUT! I'M TRYING TO EAT!" Gally spoke, or rather _yelled_ , for the first time that night.

Elizabeth watched the chaos for a few moments before turning to Newt.

"Are you going to join in?" she asked. He shook his head.

"No. Are you?"

"Are you kidding? I already lost!" Elizabeth pushed her plate away and sighed. "Can nobody cook around here, then?" she asked. Newt gave her a funny look.

"We cook," he said. "Not well, I'll give you that, but we cook."

Elizabeth shook her head.

"They'd better send up a chef next month," she said. Newt laughed, a pleasant sound. Elizabeth laughed back.

"That's actually a really good idea," Newt said, still chuckling.

"I know. That's why I suggested it."

From somewhere at the table there was the sound of a chair being smashed and the table wobbled as Gally angrily shoved himself into Hank. It seemed he'd reached the end of his limit, and Hank was as good a target as any. Zart dissappeared and reappeared with a slip of paper. He wrote a couple names on it, then started passing it around.

"Thanks for hitting me in the back," Elizabeth thanked Newt. He shrugged and continued watching the fight. Elizabeth nudged him playfully in the shoulder.

"I guess I'd better sit next to you tomorrow in case it happens again," she joked. He smiled.

"With our cooking skills, maybe you'd better."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "You don't like it, either?"

Newt turned his head to look at her and grimaced. "It's disgusting. In fact, it may be poison."

Elizabeth burst into another fit of laughter. Zart handed Newt the piece of paper. He looked it over, one of his eyebrows raised, then put a check next to one of the names.

"You gonna vote, Newbie?" Zart asked Elizabeth. She wiped the mirth from her eyes and took the piece of paper.

"What am I voting for?" she asked. Zart pointed at Gally and Hank, who were still wrestling in the dirt. Gally was lying on the ground; his sleeves were rolled up and there was dirt on his cheeks and a rip in his shirt. Elizabeth read the slip of paper.

 _hank_ ✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️

 _gally_ ✔️✔️

"So?" Zart asked. "Who's it gonna be? Hank? Or the Greenbean?"

Hank was on top of Gally, pinning his arms around his back and using his knees to restrain him. The other boy struggled under his weight and tried to kick out at him. Elizabeth watched this. She mulled it over. Hank threw another punch at Gally and he moved his head just in time. She drew a mark and handed it back to Zart.

 _hank_ ✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️✔️

 _gally_ ✔️✔️✔️

* * *

That night, Elizabeth took a brief walk before retiring to her hut. She hadn't bathed in the days she'd been in the Glade, and was feeling terribly grungy. Her short hair was knotted and greasy, and her clothes smelled like old sweat and were stained with dirt. It was already quite dark, and the air was cool against her skin. She was almost to the edge of the Deadheads when she decided to turn back. _I wonder what time it is,_ she thought.

"..."

A faint whisper caused her to stop in her tracks. She paused at the edge of the forest and listened, but didn't hear anything other than the wind. She shivered and remained still.

"..."

There it was again? Elizabeth hugged herself and turned around. It was probably just a couple of the guys goofing around. She didn't understand the fascination with hanging around creepy forests. Especially those with graveyards in the center of them. Especially at night when any normal person would be sleeping.

"Elizabeth?" Elizabeth jumped at the sudden voice. She swirled around and came face-to-face with Ric. She'd never really had the time to notice it before, but he was at least two inches shorter than her.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" he asked, jamming his hands in his pockets. Elizabeth looked over his shoulder, but he was the only one around.

"Did...were you just in the forest?" she asked, instead of giving him an answer to his own questions.

"Oh...nah," Ric replied, his face turning a bright scarlet. "Who would go there after dark? It's spooky."

For some reason Elizabeth didn't believe him.

"Well, I'm going to go to my hut now. I mean, Gally's hut. I mean, it's not really a hut, yet, but he says it'll be finished soon." He was talking too fast. His words jumbling together, his hands fidgeting, his feet tapping on the ground. Looking at him, Elizabeth tried to guess his age. He couldn't have been older than thirteen.

"Have a good night." Elizabeth smiled at him and turned and walked back to her own hut.

 _That was really weird,_ she thought, _why was Ric hanging out in the forest at night? And why did he lie about it?_


	5. S1-Ep5: Gally's Type

**Season One** **,** **Episode Five** **:** **Gally's Type**

* * *

She was lost in the crowd, searching desperately for a familiar face. Tears burned their way down her dirt-stained face and she clutched her hands to her chest. She shouldn't have strayed so far away. She took a step forward, and-

"Elizabeth, there you are!" a man picked her up from behind. The girl turned in his arms. "Papa!" she cried, burying her face into his shirt. The man kissed her cheek and hugged her before putting her back down.

"Stay with me, Elizabeth," he said, taking her hand. "I know you're curious, but it's too dangerous to be wandering around, here."

* * *

Elizabeth gasped awake, her hands clutching at her shirt much like they had been in her dream. Cold sweat covered her back and drenched her short hair. Slowly, she brought a hand up to feel the soft ends. Wasn't it longer than this? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain her sense of self. She was in the Maze. She was in Minho and Ben's hut. She was in _her_ hut. Not lost, not afraid, just...alone. Her heart beat faster in her chest as she surveyed the small room.

 _I am alone,_ she thought.

Swallowing, she swung her legs over the side of the cot and began airing out her shirt. It was the end of her second week in the Glade, the day Hank promised they would be finished with her shower stall. Elizabeth opened the door to her hut and started making her way to the gardens where she would spend most of her day. It was still early enough that most of the other Gladers were still asleep, and she briefly wondered if she had always been a morning person.

When she arrived at the gardens, she rolled up her sleeves and grabbed the watering can. Before anything, she needed to water the seeds they had planted the night before, and to do that, she had to make the long walk to the well in the middle of the Homestead. Gally was at the well drawing a bucket of water, but no one else was around.

"Is everybody still asleep?" Elizabeth asked, walking up. Gally glanced at her, then shrugged and retrieved the bucket. Elizabeth watched him as she waited her turn, then cocked her head to the side.

"How are you adjusting to life here?" she asked. Again, Gally shrugged, this time without looking at her.

"I don't really care as long as I have something to do," he said.

"Are you always so broody? You never want to talk to me." Elizabeth asked, taking the second bucket by the well and lowering it down. Gally raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not broody, and I just talked to you. Twice."

"But usually you just...I don't know, keep to yourself."

"Do you have a problem with that?" Gally dipped his hands into the bucket and splashed some water up at his face.

"No. I-" Elizabeth started, Gally interupted her.

"You think that just because you're a girl all the guys are gonna want to be talking to you at all times of the day? Well news flash, I don't really care." He looked over at her, his eyes flitting up and down her body. Elizabeth shifted under his scrutinization.

"You're not even that pretty, anyway," he said.

Elizabeth blinked. She nearly dropped the bucket she was retrieving from the rope. Gally didn't seem to notice; he continued washing his face. Admitedly he was feeling uncomfortable about the silence. He'd probably hurt her feelings and she was trying not to cry. His words, though true, hadn't been made to come across so rudely. And then the strangest thing happened.

Elizabeth laughed. She set down the bucket she was handling and covered her mouth with both hands, her sides shaking with laughter, trying her hardest to be quiet and respectful to those who were sleeping. Gally's mouth dropped open while he watched her.

"You're laughing about it?" He was incredulous. Elizabeth said nothing, just continued laughing and staggering around. He thought he saw a tear slide down her cheek.

"It wasn't supposed to be a joke," he said.

"I-I know!" Elizabeth wiped the tear from her eye and took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Anyway, you're not my type," Gally continued, "you're too skinny or something." Elizabeth giggled again, this time forgetting to keep things down. What was her problem?

"My day has been made!" she said in-between laughter. Gally startled them both by letting out a snort of his own laughter.

"I thought girls were more sensitive about their looks than this," he said serioiusly. Elizabeth picked up the bucket by her feet and started pouring it into the watering can.

"I'm not really offended, I'm just surprised you would be say something about that. I didn't think you'd be so verbal about it." She smiled at him, "don't worry, I won't hold it against you. You're not my type, either."

"I still don't see why you have to laugh about it." Gally watched her transfer the water to the watering can. After a moment, he said, "What _is_ your type?"

Elizabeth looked at him with a strange look on her face. "The klunk? You can't just ask me that, Gals."

Gally's freckled face did something Elizabeth didn't think was possible: it turned a bright red.

"I just told you mine, why shouldn't you tell me yours? And don't ever call me that again," he grumbled, his tone turning angry. Elizabeth frowned.

"You did? What was it?" she asked smoothly.

"Not you," he replied just as smoothly. She smiled at him. He smiled back. It made his facial features softer.

"Well?" she prompted.

"No offense, but you're just not the tall, sexy brunette I think of everytime my mind goes there."

"Gally!" Elizabeth's mouth dropped open, the closed again. It was very fish-like. Gally picked up his bucket and brought it to his mouth and drank. Elizabeth couldn't believe Gally had told her what he found attractive in a woman. She also couldn't believe he'd used the word, "sexy," and implied that his mind "went there." She smiled as she watched him finish his drink and wipe the corners of his mouth with a sleeve.

"Thanks, Gals," she said. "I feel like I know you better, now,"

"You're welcome. Don't call me Gals."

* * *

Ric was watching Elizabeth raking the dirt from her place on the field. He'd been here for a month and two weeks and still felt like the newbie, while Elizabeth seemed to fit right in, despite the fact she was female. And a very pretty one at that.

"Yo, Ric!" something hit the side of his head. Zart was holding a green tomato in one hand, and a hoe in the other.

"What?"

"You been daydreaming again. You need to pee or something?" the older boy asked. Ric shook his head.

"Nah, I'm good." Ric turned back to his work. Ever since he'd found Elizabeth outside the woods that night, he'd been suspicious of her. She seemed like a nice-enough girl, but he didn't trust her. He'd been following Dave again, and it looked like Elizabeth had been with Dave this time. Maybe they were in cahoots, though Ric didn't know how they could have formed up in the short time she'd been in the Glade. Still, she was very pretty, and Dave was probably handsome. Maybe Elizabeth liked him and that's why they were together in the forest. They'd been doing something aweful. Something sinister. Something... _romantic_. Ric shuddered at the thought.

Dave had been sneaking in the forest for quite a while, and Ric didn't know why. He'd been careful to stay out of sight, and Dave didn't seem to know he was being followed. Ric had stumbled upon a tree full of sharpened sticks along with a couple of knives, and was smart enough to realize they weren't for decoration. Dave was always hovering above Bill's grave muttering curses to the dirt that covered his friend. Ric hadn't known Bill, but he knew Dave had been close to him. And now he was going crazy. Cursing at Bill's grave, sharpening sticks with knives, glaring at the other boys like he hated them all.

The most awful part being that no one saw this except for Ric. He'd told Nick about Dave's wicked looks and his appearences at Bill's grave, but the Glade leader had only laughed and called Ric's ideas "a bunch of jack," and then gone on to call Ric himself a baby-boy. Needless to say, it hadn't gone well. He'd considered telling Alby or even Newt, but then decided against it because maybe Nick was right. He didn't know Dave that well, and for all-he-knew this was a normal occurance. This whole place was messed up, anyway, why _shouldn't_ Dave be sneaking around like a creep?

Poor Elizabeth, she probably never knew what hit her.

* * *

"How was your day in the Maze?" Elizabeth asked Newt, "Any Grievers?" It was dinner once again in the Glade, and as usual-since her choking-accident-Elizabeth and Newt were sitting together.

He shrugged: "Kind of uneventful, really,"

"Mine, too," she said. They started eating in silence. The meal was a sort of roast that Ben had dreamt up, complete with roasted carrots, onions, and green beans from the garden.

"This is pretty good," she said in-between-bites. Newt agreed. Elizabeth was about to say something else when Hank stood up.

"I have an announcement," he said, looking at Elizabeth. "The shower stalls are ready. Well, Elizabeth's is all complete, anyway. We plan to finish the rest by next week."

Elizabeth raised her glass. "Thank God for that! I smell like klunk!"

"Hear, hear!" Dalton said, raising his own glass. Everyone looked at him and he turned sheepish. "I meant for the shower being finished," he mumbled.

"He is right, though," Newt said, as soon as they'd all cheered. "You do stink."

Elizabeth swatted his arm. "So does everybody!"

"That's exactly my point," Newt replied. "You're starting to smell as bad as one of the guys." The skin around his hazel eyes crinkled as he smiled into his drink. The comment earned him another swat.

* * *

The water felt so good on Elizabeth's skin. The Builders had been kind enough to make her stall large enough to fit a pot, and even added a small shelf with a new bar of soap. She felt reasonably safe in the small building, and was thankful for the roof they'd added, and the door that could be locked with a moving handle from the inside. That had been Ben's idea; make the door open towards the outside and add a piece of swinging wood that, although not as sturdy as a professional outhouse, would at least give Elizabeth enough warning if anyone tried to break in.

Her original plan for a ten-minute shower had gradually gone from thirty minutes, to forty-five, to an hour. But it felt _so good_ , and if somebody complained about it, so be it. They could have their little tantrum, it wouldn't change the fact that she finally felt clean.

Thankfully the Glade was supplied with towels, and Elizabeth had brought a change of clothes with her, so it was easy to re-clothe and exit the stall feeling ready to take on another day in the gardens.


	6. S1-Ep6: The Other Me

**Season One** **,** **Episode Six** _ **:**_ **The Other Me**

* * *

Elizabeth was finished with gardening for the day. After telling Zart, she cleaned up her equipment and wandered away from the gardens. As much as she loved the smell of soil and the sight of budding green amidst the brown, it was enough for one day. She pulled down her sleeves and ran a hand through her hair.

She was just passing the Box when she noticed someone standing by the wall. Curious, she walked over to him. It was Newt. He was standing a few paces away from the Maze's entrance. He must have gotten back from Running fairly recently, seeing as his hair was damp with sweat and a bit darker than usual. He didn't turn around when she came up behind him, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she stood beside him and followed his gaze to the names on the stone. On it was a list of all the boys' names, including hers. She had stood by and watched as Hank chiseled her name in the middle of the second row.

Some names, names of those who had died, we crossed out: George, Billy, Kevin, Marco, Rob. Elizabeth couldn't say for sure, but for some reason she knew that Newt was looking at these names especially. After a moment of silence, Elizabeth glanced over at Newt. His dark eyes were still fastened to the wall, his eyebrows furrowed softly and his lips curled into a small frown. There were a couple of boyish freckles that randomly spotted down his neck from the edge of his ear. Elizabeth's heartbeat quickened and she averted her eyes.

Instead of looking merely purturbed or deep in thought, Newt looked...sad.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice came out lower than she had intended, and she almost thought he hadn't heard her, but something in his jaw clicked. He looked down at the ground and kicked at the grass.

"Nah," he said casually, jamming his hands into his pockets. Elizabeth's mouth formed a pensive line. As if sensing her sudden change of mood, Newt chuckled and turned towards her, away from the wall.

"Nothing really to talk about, anyhow," he mumbled. He was looking at her, now, but something in his smile was heartbreaking. Elizabeth fought the urge to grab for his hand. Instead she smiled back at him.

"Whatever comfort I can give you, please take it," she said. Newt blinked. Elizabeth looked back at the wall.

"If you could go back to what it was before, who do you think you would be?" she asked.

Newt thought about this. The question had taken him off guard; Elizabeth was usually so perky and had something funny to say. Despite that, Newt thought she had never sounded so much like...well, _herself_. It was a confusing paradox, and he wasn't sure how it worked, but it did. It made sense.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, "I would probably be a different person than I am now."

"And if you knew how you were different, if you could see who you were before this, do you think you would choose to erase this you and go back?" Elizabeth looked back at him. A strand of hair blew across her face in the wind, catching against her nose. Newt swallowed and fidgeted nervously. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to answer this one. Klunk, he wasn't even sure he knew how he _wanted_ to answer it.

"It depends on the kind of person I was, I guess," he finally said. "But I think I would. I think I would choose to go back."

Elizabeth smiled. Newt wanted to brush that pesky strand away from her face. It bothered him. Having hair in your face was the most annoying feeling.

"I wouldn't go back." Elizabeth sighed and turned her face up to the sky, as if trying to see beyond the wall.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because if I went back, I wouldn't be who I am, now. And I'd much rather continue being someone I know than choose to be a stranger."

"You wouldn't be a stranger. Not if you could go back and see who you were then. You could choose accurately, then," Newt reasoned. Elizabeth looked back at him, still smiling. She shook her head and more hair joined the single strand at her nose. This time she brushed it away and he nearly sighed in relief.

"That me would still be a stranger to me, even if I saw her up close rather than at a distance. That person would still not be the me I am now, because she had different thoughts and loved different things, and lived a different life. I don't know her. Not her favorite color, not her favorite food, not who she liked to hang out with...she would be a stranger."

Newt ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, then let's say you remembered everything. Let's say you saw the person you were before you were sent to the Maze and as soon as you saw her you remembered everything of that life? I would choose to go back then, because at least I'll know what happened and this won't all have been for nothing."

"It can't be for nothing," Elizabeth mused. She stretched out a hand and touched her name on the stone wall. Then, she turned around, leaned up against it, and slid down to the ground with crossed legs. She patted the spot next to her, and Newt complied, sitting on the ground beside her with his back against the wall. It wasn't as uncomfortable as he initially thought. The two of them looked out into the Glade.

"I don't think this is all for nothing. Whoever sent us here, even if it was just one person, they had thier reasons. They may be mad reasons, sure, but they are still reasons. At least to that one person all of this won't have been for nothing."

Newt felt something akin to a sense of calm wash over him. When she put it that way, when she talked like this, it made sense. He still didn't understand, but he felt better knowing someone out there did.

"I don't want to be someone I would hate now," Elizabeth continued.

"Don't you think you would be somewhat like the person you are, now?" Newt asked. "We're probably a lot more like ourselves than we think we are."

Elizabeth giggled, filling the air around them with the girlish sound, and Newt was filled with satisfaction. He liked hearing her laugh. It was so much different than anyone else's; so much lighter and sweet. He hadn't been aware just how much he'd missed the presence of the opposite sex in the world. Life was not meant to be lived entirely co-ed. Even if she wasn't supposed to come to the Maze, in this little way she had brightened the every-day life of the Gladers.

"I suppose you're right," Elizabeth said. "I just get the feeling I wasn't as happy as I'd like to imagine. We all suppose that outside of the Maze we were all better off and were this amazing, happy person who had an wonderful life and a loving family and everything. But waht if that's just not true?" She shifted her body, twisting it around to talk to him face-to-face.

"What if we had a terrible life, and right now, this is better than anything we've ever had? Who knows who I could have been, Newt? I could have been some homeless person off the streets with no money and no food and no family. I could have lost everything I ever loved. I could have been _alone!_ I could have had _nothing_!" Her voice was raising, and Newt got the sense she'd done a lot of thinking about this, just as he had. Though his reasoning and worries were exactly the opposite of hers.

"Don't you see, Newt? I _have_ to believe that I have a better life here, otherwise I'll keep wishing I wasn't here. I can't live my life wishing to be somewhere that is impossible for me to be. It will tear me apart, Newt. It will break me." She brought her hand up and clutched the fabric at the collar of her shirt. "Just like it will break you."

The air stilled. Even the breeze that was there before disappeared. Elizabeth watched Newt's reaction while at the same time fumbling to control her own. She hadn't told anyone these fears, and talking about them now was as if she was finally allowed to breathe. Before, she was suffocating under the weight of anxiety, most of which was still undiscovered, even to herself.

"They were killed by Grievers," Newt said. Elizabeth's nose wrinkled in confusion until she realized he was talking about the dead Gladers.

"We didn't realize how dangerous they were, and for some reason a couple found their way out of the Maze. That was before we had even started setting up the Homestead. Anyway, the Grievers came, and in the end we lost some friends. George, Marco and Rob. Billy and Kevin we lost later from the Griever sickness. Personally, I think the Griever sickness is the worser fate. That's why we were all so glad you brought that antidote with you, even though it was only one."

Newt stopped talking and looked down at the grass again. This time he ripped up a clump of it and let it drop in his hands. His eyebrows were furrowed together and his lips were pursed. Elizabeth watched the grass fall between his fingers and listened. Not just to his words, but to the way he felt. Not just to what he had told her about the dead Gladers, but the tone in his voice and the ache she knew he felt somewhere in his heart. She wished she could take her own worries and clump the mushes of their worries together and watch them fall like the grass.

"I don't understand," she said. "Not really, I mean. I wasn't there. Even if I was, I would have experienced it differently than you did."

For some reason, this made Newt smile. "Anyway, it was a long time ago," he said. Elizabeth smiled back at him and nudged him with her shoulder.

"It wasn't really," she said.

They were quiet again. Elizabeth looked up at the darkening sky. It was close to dinnertime, and her stomach growled in anticipation, despite the fact that it was yet again Dave's turn to cook the night's meal.

"Hungry?" Newt asked, turning to her and raising an eyebrow. Elizabeth grinned.

"Nah, I just have to klunk."

Newt burst out laughing, his face lighting up with the act. Elizabeth laughed along with him.

"I'm just kidding!" she cried while Newt grabbed his sides yelling, "That's jacked up!"

They laughed until they couldn't sit up anymore and fell to their sides, their ribs burning. Afterwards, when they could breath again, they rolled to their backs and looked at the cloudless sky. Elizabeth's stomach growled again, and after another short spout of crazed laughter, she forced herself to sit up.

"I really am hungry," she said. Newt brought his hands up to his face.

"Bloody _hell_ , woman," he muttered through his fingers.

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist! It was just a joke, though, I swear."

" _Bloody hell_ , Elizabeth," he said again. Elizabeth swatted his arm before standing up. She crossed her arms and stared down at him.

"You gonna get up?" she asked, "Or would you like assitance?"

Newt got up to his knees and successfully stood up without Elizabeth's help. He ran a hand through his messy hair and looked towards camp.

"Let's go eat some poison, shall we?" He asked. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and began walking.

"Hey, why don't you cook for us if you hate our food so bad?" Newt asked, catching up with her. Elizabeth let out a little huff.

"What, you think I can cook because I'm a woman? No thank you, not interested."

"That's not what I-"

"I don't like to cook. And whatever I do...let's just say I have a feeling that it would be real poison."

Newt snorted: "And how do you know that? You haven't even tried? You and Gally could even whip up something together."

Elizabeth laughed again. "Trust me, that last thing Gally and I are going to "whip up" is a decent meal. Maybe he can cook, but I'm just not into that. I'd rather do the eating than preparing. That's why I say we ask the Box people to send up a chef."

"Again I ask, how do you know you don't like to cook? You haven't even tried!" Newt rolled up his sleeves as they got closer to the large table that the rest of the boys had already started gathering at. Elizabeth shrugged.

"I don't know, it's just a feeling."

"A feeling? Kinda like the one you had earlier?" Newt asked.

That earned him another swat in the arm.


	7. S1-Ep7: Greenbean

**Season One** **,** **Episode Seven** _ **:**_ **Greenbean**

* * *

The boy was holding a knife in his hands, the edge of the blade glimmering in the light of the moon between the trees. A single tear escaped a hazel eye and rolled down the length of his cheek, finally dropping from his face to his hands holding the knife. Ashamed, he wiped his eye with the edge of his sleeve and returned the knife to its place. His eyes bored a hole through the patch of dirt he was kneeling in front of.

"Soon," he said. A whisper. A single word.

A promise.

* * *

Elizabeth could hardly contain her excitement. Today was the the beginning of a new month, which meant she would witness the arrival of a new Glader. It also meant that she and Gally would no longer be Greenies. Rather than scrutinizing her breakfast and trying to guess what it was like usual, she gobbled the food down. The Runners weren't going out today, so Newt and Minho were in the seats next to her. Minho raised an eyebrow at her chow down, but made no further comments. Newt, on the other hand, frowned down at his food.

"It can't be that good, can it?" he asked.

"Don't be such a shank," Nick said. "It's food, so eat it."

Newt shrugged and started eating. The five runners-Nick included even though some days he took on the duties of a Track-hoe instead-were used to being up so early in the morning, but Elizabeth was normally more of an afternoon person. Sometimes there were others who got a head start on the day, but today didn't seem to be one of those days.

"Out of my way," someone said. Newt sucked in a breath. He'd spoken too soon-here was Gally. The broody boy plopped his tray of food across from him and started eating with that same disgusted look on his face. Did his expression ever change?

"Morning, Gally." Surprisingly, Elizabeth started exchanging a few pleasantries with the Builder, asking him how his night was and what his plans were for the day. _Not_ surprisingly, Gally failed to respond to any of her questions. He didn't even awcknowledge the fact that she was talking to him.

"Ugh, it looks like rain," P.F. spoke up. Newt's ears pricked. It never rained in the Glade. Ever.

"You're imagining things, P.F." Dalton said, and shoved P.F. good-naturedly. Elizabeth looked over at them and smiled. It was like she wasn't even bothered by Gally's rude behavior. Newt went back to eating.

"The clouds seem a bit darker than usual, though," P.F. continued. He gestured towards the sky and everyone but Gally looked up. The clouds did seem a little more grey than normal, but it wasn't anything to get concerned about.

Dalton's eyes narrowed: "It's probably just because the Box is coming up today."

"You think maybe it's related?" P.F. asked.

"That has nothing to do with it," Minho said, ever the voice of reason. "It's probably nothing, so don't worry about it."

"Who said I was worried?" P.F. resumed stuffing his face.

* * *

It was almost time for the Box to arrive. It always came right on schedule, before lunch, and like clockwork, the boys started gravitating closer and closer to the Box's hatch. Zart lay down his hoe and wiped his hands on his pants.

"Yo! Ric! Elizabeth! Time to meet the new Greenbean!" he said, calling to the other two Track-hoes. Elizabeth was crawling around the ground like some sort of caterpillar, and Ric was leaning casually against a rake, watching her with a lovesick expression. Zart snorted. Alby had made sure they all understood what would happen if they tried making a move on the girl without her permission. After Elizabeth had left the meeting that day, Alby assembled them all together later that evening and told them that if they "tried anything fishy" he'd send them to the slammer for three days. For some reason the guys listened to Alby, even more than they listened to Nick, though none would care to admit that to their leader's face.

"Hey! Did you klunks hear me?" Zart asked, feeling himself getting impatient.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" When Elizabeth stood up she nearly tripped in the dirt, but Rick caught her arm, and she smiled up at him.

"Thanks," she said, and patted him on the shoulder. Ric actually blushed, and Zart rolled his eyes. Admittedly, he was a bit jealous. Elizabeth was pretty friendly with everybody-she had a good sense of humour and was genuinely nice. She was also very pretty, in a rustic sort of way, with that wild blonde hair and soft body. Zart wasn't about to complain about the way she dressed herself in the loose clothing they all wore, but he knew he wasn't the only one secretly curious to see her in something more...form-fitting. Underneath that skinny-looking frame was some sort of curvy wonderland.

Zart snorted again. That was just like them. Their captives. They probably sent her here on purpose, just to torture them with something they couldn't have. They probably picked a random girl with a perfect hour-glass figure and just sent her down as some sort of sick joke. Maybe they were watching them all right now and were laughing about how _funny_ it was to have a girl like that in the middle of a bunch of dudes. Hell, maybe-

"Are you okay, Zart?" Elizabeth was beside him her eyebrows creased in worry. Zart gulped and forced himself to turn away from her.

"Let's just get to the Box," he mumbled, his face heating up.

"I'll meet you guys there, I'm just gonna go get something from my hut," Ric said.

"Okay," Elizabeth said. She ran to catch up with Zart, who was already halfway to the clearing where all the others were gathering.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked again. "You seem more serious than usual."

Zart huffed. Was there no end to her goodness?

"I'm just thinking about you and the fact that you're perfect." _Shuck. Did he say that out loud?_

The look on Elizabeth's face told him she felt awkward, but she made a good effort to conceal the fact with a laugh.

"You think I'm perfect?" she asked, shaking her head. "That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said."

"Oh? And what makes you the expert on the things I say? I've said loads more things more _ridiculous_."

"No, you haven't. You've said stupid things, sure, but this one beats all." Elizabeth nudged him a bit while they walked, and Zart shoved his hands in his pockets, trying his best to ignore the heat from her body. She was standing _way_ too close. Wasn't she feeling uncomfortable?

They reached the Box and Zart went to stand next to Minho, hoping Elizabeth would find somebody else in the crowd to loiter around, but she stuck with him, and struck up a conversation with Minho. Zart watched them and felt disgust rise in his chest. She just flirted with everyone, didn't she? Unbelievable. Couldn't Minho see they were just trying to get a rise out of them with her?

A sound wrenched him from his thoughts, and Zart watched along with the others, the air falling silent in anticipation as it always did before they met the new Greenbean. Hopefully it wasn't another girl.

Nick opened the doors and everybody stared down into the Box. And there was the Greenbean, staring right back up at them.

* * *

 _Too bright!_ He shielded his eyes from the sun, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Hey there, Greenbean," a voice said. He jumped and forced his eyes to open. He needed to know what his kidnapper looked like, and why he had drugged him and pulled this crazy stunt.

 _Do I owe him money?_ he wondered.

Staring down at him was a group of boys around his age. _What the-?_ He blinked, confused. Why would a bunch of dudes in dirty clothes kidnap him?

"Wait a second..." he said, "is this stome sort of gang initiation?"

One of the boys-a skinny Asian kid-laughed.

"Do you remember your name at least?"

"Sure, it's Chris," Chris said, still confused. "But what is going on? I mean, you could have just asked if I wanted to join your club. No need to use drugs. I can't remember anything that happened!"

"Nice to meet you, Greenie, I'm Nick," said another boy. He offered his hand and Chris decided to take it. He found himself in a valley of grass, surrounded on all sides by a large wall.

"Are you hard of hearing? My name is Chris." Chris took a step back from the group now that he was out of the Box. They didn't make a move towards him, but they were all staring at him like he was some sort of freak. A twinge of annoyance flickered in his chest.

"Alby and Nick will help explain everything," a scrawny boy stuck his hand out. "Would you rather be introduced to us all now, or later?"

Chris said nothing, but he did not take the boy's hand.

"I'm Newt," the boy said, taking back his hand and shrugging like it was no big deal. He started around the circle listing off names and...wait a second...was that a _girl_? She was standing next to the Asian kid, Grino or whatever it was, looking just as curious as the rest of them. Her hair barely reached her shoulders and she was wearing the same grimy clothes as the rest of them, so that's probably why he hadn't noticed that she was female.

"Excuse me, but I don't think I caught your name," he said, looking at her. To his pleasant surprise, she met his eyes and smiled back at him. The rest of the boys, on the other hand, all seemed to take a protective step closer to her.

"I'm Elizabeth. I know you must be really confused right now, but like Newt said, he and Alby and Nick will clear things up. Well as clear as they can get, anyway..."

She had a nice voice. Chris liked her voice.

"What kind of club is this?" He asked. One girl amidst of sea of guys? It seemed fishy. Extremely fishy. If these people were that desperate to have a good time, wouldn't they have kidnapped more girls to even out the odds? Or maybe she was a volenteer? Somebody's unfortunate sister?

"Oh, we're not a club," Elizabeth said, laughing. Oh, she was laughing. _How cute._

Newt cleared his throat: "Do you remember anything about your life?"

Chris didn't take his eyes off Elizabeth. "I don't remember anything," he said.

"You're taking this pretty well." Nick glared at the newbie and tried to figure him out. "Are you hiding something?"

"How could I be hiding anything? Like you said, I remember nothing. Except my name, I guess."

"It happened to all of us," P.F. said. He, too, watched Chris with unbridled suspicion.

Elizabeth suddenly started under Chris's gaze. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and averted her gaze. Chris was mildly amused, but he finally tore his gaze away from her and focused on Newt instead.

"By all means," he said, "tell me everything I need to know."

* * *

Elizabeth hadn't known what to think about the new boy at first, but by the time they had all dispersed from the Box, she felt incredibly uncomfortable. They way he had looked at her with eyes so dark they could have been black was unnerving, to say in the least. She was glad when Newt and Alby had taken him to Nick's hut to talk. She shuddered and pushed the negative thoughts away. They had the monthly gathering at the meeting hut tonight, and would go over the rules then. Everything would be fine.

"Hey." The voice made her jump. Gally was standing a few feet away, frowning at her.

"O-oh, hey Gally," she said, fighting to keep her breathing steady. She plastered a smile on her face and Gally's frown deepened.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I was just going to head to lunch early. Maybe Dave could use some help with the meal."

"Well hurry up, then. Don't just stand there looking stupid."

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose at the comment, but Gally had already turned his back to her. She stuck her tongue out at him and walked to lunch. Most of the others were already there, all standing around waiting for food and talking about the Greenie.

"Man, that Greenie was something else."

"He's jacked!"

"Yeah, there's either a few screws loose, or he's waiting until he's alone to throw a tantrum."

"Did you see the way that shank was staring at Elizabeth?"

"UGH, man I'm starving!"

Their chatter died down when Elizabeth walked up to them, but she pretended not to notice, and took a seat at the table. After a few seconds, the talk started up again more loudly than ever, and Minho came to sit next to her. He opened his mouth to say something when the sound of screaming distracted filled the clearing. Will was running towards them, shaking his arms and shouting something.

"HELP!"

"What's that shank going off about?" Hank said, but he was already jogging over to the Will. Elizabeth got up from the table, her heart pounding in her ears.

"Somebody...somebody...forest..." Will panted. Dalton slapped him on the back.

"OUT WITH IT, MAN!"

Will looked up at them with wide eyes. "It's Ric...I think...I think he was attacked by a Griever!"


	8. S1-Ep8: What Happened to Ric

**Season One** **, Episode Eight** _ **:**_ **What Happened to Ric**

* * *

The Gladers erupted into chaos.

"How'd a Griever get in here, man!"

"Where's that shank now?"

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Nick pushed his way forward and grabbed Will by the collar of his shirt. "Where is he, Will? Take us to him NOW!"

Will immediately turned around and began running, this time with the rest of the men-and Elizabeth-trailing behind. He led them to the edge of the forest, where Ric was sprawled across the ground with his face towards the sky, gasping for breath.

As soon as she saw him, Elizabeth grabbed the arm of the person closest to her and leaned into him for support as her world swayed.

"Elizabeth...?" Newt asked, his own shock making it hard for him to say anything else. Instead of words, he brought his hands to her shoulders to keep her from falling over. Elizabeth stared at the ground and tried to focus on the warmth coming from his hands on her shoulders.

Newt peered over her to see Ric. Nick and Alby stood over him, whispering with one another about what to do with the poor boy. The entire front of him had been cruelly ripped open, exposing the soft tissue underneath. Blood poured from the wounds, staining the grass underneath Ric red. His head lolled to the side and blood spurted from his mouth as he reached his last remaining ounces of strength to stay concious. His eyes were already glazing over when Gally pushed his way over to the wounded Ric.

Newt closed his eyes and bent his head with Elizabeth's, his forehead touching hers. He'd always hated the sight of blood and gore; the sight of the innocent Ric made the vomit rise in his throat and he fought to control his own breathing. He couldn't tell who was shaking harder-him or Elizabeth.

Gally kneeled down by Ric and started muttering indeciferable words of supposed comfort to his roommate. The others didn't have it in them to be surprised by his unusually gentle actions. Some watched in silence as the scene unfurled in front of them, others started shouting in frusteration at each other, and a few of them found it in their best interest to look away like Elizabeth and Newt had.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, Ric sputtered, his body shuddering violently. He made one last desperate gasp, then fell suddenly still. The Gladers fell silent, except for Elizabeth, who let out a choked sob every few seconds. Alby turned away from the body, the grief of the situation hitting him like a thousand arrows. Nick kept staring down at Ric, his lips forming a thin line.

Gally was the first one to move. He let out an angry roar and hit the ground beside him, which helped everyone wake up from their shock. Hank offered to help move the body to the Deadheads. Will and Ben-the Baggers-went to get shovels. Hank walked over to Ric and put a hand on Gally's shoulder. Gally made no move to stop him, so he grabbed Ric's arms. P.F. and Dalton each grabbed a foot and they moved away, leaving Gally sitting alone by the puddle of blood.

Eventually Nick followed after Hank and the others, and was shortly joined by Dave, Doug, Minho, Zart, Chris, and finally Alby and Gally. Will and Ben didn't take long with the shovels, and soon it was just Elizabeth and Newt standing together at the edge of the forest. Elizabeth pulled away first, and clutched one arm at her chest. The other she used to wipe desperately at her face. Newt dropped shaky hands to his sides and didn't look at her. She hiccuped once, and then she was gone-making her own way to the gravestones.

Somehow Newt found himself at the cemetary with the others, and even took a turn digging. Alby forced himself to say a few words after they lowered Ric's body into the grave, and Dalton found a sizeable rock to use as a headstone. P.F. and Doug helped with the engraving, and the funeral passed in a blur.

* * *

Gally was furious. He didn't have a word for this seething, intense anger that was boiling beneath the surface. After Ric died, he'd been left without a hut-mate, which was worse that he thought it would be. Sure, he was grateful for the silence for once, but when he thought about the reason behind Ric's silence, he wished he hadn't been so harsh with the boy. He'd grown fond of him in the month and two weeks he'd been in the Glade. It wasn't as if he was attached in any way to Ric, it was just that...thinking that someone in this place had betrayed them by killing the most innocent one of them all...

Gally was glad to be a Builder. It kept his hands busy, and Hank didn't bother him with meaningless conversations. Contrary to popular belief, Gally wasn't used to being so angry _all_ the time. Sure, he got bothered sometimes, and was plagued by boredom, but since living in the Glade he hadn't had a reason to get seriously angry. Annoyed, yes. Frusterated, yes. Even a bit mad. Elizabeth had called him "broody" once, but that was just his natural persona. He wasn't an emotional person, and he was fine with that. In fact, he liked it.

Though if he really thought about it, he had to admit that his dominant negative emotion _was_ anger. The way he felt now, proved it. Even though he didn't know his past, he was smart enough to realize that he was the type of person who got angry instead of sad, angry instead of surprised, angry instead of scared, and so-on-and-so-forth. It was the way he dealt with things. So if he just kept building and keeping himself busy, the feelings he was experiencing due to Ric's death would eventually subside.

* * *

The week passed by too slowly for Alby. The normal chatter seemed to have died down from the week before. The only thing that took his mind off the Glade's problems was showing the Greenbean the ropes. He liked Chris-the guy was confident and sensitive to the Glade's needs. He jumped in with Dave as their second Bricknick and worked with little complaint. Some of the others had expressed concern over his apparent "creepy behavior" towards Elizabeth his first day, but if Alby was honest, he hadn't noticed anything off the first day.

Chris was quite charming; he was diligent and worked hard. He didn't go prying into business that didn't concern him, and didn't talk about Ric's death or ask any unimportant questions. Ric's death hung over the Glade like a cloak, and Alby found himself looking forward to the next Box visit. It was only a couple weeks away, and if the Greenie was anything as helpful as Chris was, it would be a good thing.

Hopefully this whole thing with Ric and murder would be gone by then.

* * *

Newt couldn't sleep. No matter how hard he tried. The blankets were too hot, his cot was too uncomfortable, nightmares lay behind his eyelids and threatened to drown him in his thoughts. It had been a week since Ric's death, and he still felt a sort of restless shock. Everyone else was slowly getting back into their normal routines, save for a few souls, like Gally, who moped around and couldn't act like their normal selves.

Earlier in the week, not long after Ric's death, Alby had called an emergency Glade-meeting. They had discussed the circumstances regarding his death, where several of the men, including Dalton and Minho, brought up the subject of the Grievers.

"I don't see how a Griever could be wandering around the Glade without any of us noticing. And do you remember that nothing came out to attack us after he died?" Minho had pointed out.

"What else could it have been?" Doug had asked.

It was then that Gally stood up and said the words that still chilled Newt's spine: "This was murder. We all know it. I have never seen a Griever, but I didn't see anybody rushing to find the one that did this to Ric after we found him. Everybody just stood there and realized that a Griever could not have cut him open like that."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Alby's voice was raspy, but strong. "We were all in shock, that was all. I'm thankful the Griever didn't come back while we were burying Ric's body, but that doesn't mean one wasn't here."

"NO!" Gally shouted, his face turning red. "You're telling me that in the event of a Griever being loose in the Glade you would all just stand around and take time to bury somebody before scouring the Glade for the enemy? What the hell kind of klunk logic is that!"

"He...he has a point," P.F. said, "we haven't seen a Griever make an attack like that. Usually they just inject their victims with their poison and eat them. They don't cut them and then leave them."

"Do you realize that you're trying to make a murderer out of one of us?" Alby asked. P.F. fell silent and averted his gaze. Gally crossed his arms and grunted in disbelief.

"Then we'll keep an eye on everyone. If anybody does anything suspicious you come to me and we'll deal with it!" Nick said.

"I don't believe this!" he said, "somebody killed Ric and now what? We're just gonna let them get away with it?"

"We're not letting anybody get away with anything," Alby said, still calm. "But right now, we don't have any evidence that points to a specific person, so we can't deal out punishments right away."

"RIC WAS MURDERED, ALBY! MUDERED!"

"MURDERED...!"

"MURDERED...!"

 _Murdered?_

Gally's angry voice echoed in Newt's head and he got out of bed, throwing the blankets to the side and grabbing a pair of clean clothes. He left his hut-making sure he didn't wake Alby-and headed to the showers.


	9. S1-Ep9: Never Alone

**Season One** **,** **Episode Nine** _ **:**_ **Never Alone**

* * *

"Yo! Are you even listening to me, Newt?"

Newt jumped at the sound of Minho's voice. Minho sighed. He'd been showing him all the routes they should take during their week in the Maze. It had been a week since Ric's death, so they decided it was time to go back to work.

"Sorry, Minho. Run it by me again," Newt said. He loved being a Runner, he really did. Running took his mind to a place of nothing; a place of everything. Running helped him forget his problems and reminded him that he had a purpose in the Glade.

Minho quickly summarized what he'd already said, and Newt agreed. The rest of the Runners were already out by the wall, waiting for Newt and Minho. As soon as they wrapped things up, they would head out into the Maze for a normal day. Nick would be joining them this time, which would be nice, considering that he'd been spending a lot of his time in the Gardens instead. More time than usual, even. Nick always switched between Running and Gardening, but since Ric's death, he felt the need to accompany Zart and Elizabeth, who couldn't put their Track-Hoe duties entirely on hold for mourning.

Elizabeth. Minho wondered how the blonde was faring. She hadn't been her normal self since Ric died. Her usually positive attitude and cheerful disposition had given way to a more subdued and quiet temperment. He didn't know whether it was because becoming quiet was her way of dealing with grief, or if she was suddenly struck with the realization that danger was out there. That she could die in this place, where all they had was each other and nothing else.

Turning his attention back to the present focus, Minho grabbed his pack and water bottle, and he and Newt headed out towards the doors to the ever-imposing Maze. How was it that the Maze-though ever-changing-was the only thing that stayed constant in this place?

* * *

It was a hot day, and it dragged on longer than usual. By the time they had returned to the Glade, Newt was covered in sweat and ready to hit the sack and drift off into a-hopefully-more relaxing place.

"You okay, there, Newt?" Minho asked, running in from behind him. Newt forced a smile.

"Yeah, just tired."

"Good, that."

Dalton and P.F. both gave him slaps on the back Newt continued on with them to dinner. He grabbed a plate and heaped it with the lumps of creamy mush and found his usual place a the table next to Elizabeth. She smiled at him when he sat down, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. They all ate in awkward semi-silence and afterwards Newt was one of the first to leave for the Homestead.

Elizabeth watched him leave, and for some reason, she felt guilty that she hadn't talked to him more. Out of all of them, he and Gally seemed to be taking Ric's death the hardest. Gally took his hurt out with anger and fiery retorts and challenged the other guys to fights by throwing himself at them without warning. But Newt hid behind fake smiles and tried to pretend everything was normal. He went along quietly without complaint and when someone asked him if he was okay, he convinced them that he was perfectly fine.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she watched him. She remembered how he had steadied her during Ric's death, and the way they stared at the ground with their foreheads pressed together. And she remembered the feeling of relief that he was the one who had been there with her. Out of all of them, it was Newt she felt the most connection with.

"Why the long face, beautiful?"

Elizabeth looked up to see Chris eating his food across from her. She blinked-had he been there the whole time?

"I'm sorry, you have a problem with my face?" she answered. Chris laughed.

"A cute idea, but no. I like your face."

Elizabeth felt the blood rush to her face and she turned away. It wasn't that she disliked Chris. He was nice enough to her, and seemed to be getting along with everybody else, too. But sometimes...sometimes the way he looked at her and the things he said to her were unnerving. It didn't help that he happened to be an incredibly attractive boy-thick, curly, raven hair accentuated his olive-toned skin and arched nose. His eyes alone were enough to take the breath out of her: dark, almost velvety black eyes framed by long, gently curled lashes.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to embarass you." Smirking, Chris took another bite of his food. That was another thing about him-he was all too aware of his dashing good looks. It gave Elizabeth the idea that he had probably been some sort of player before coming to the Maze. While another girl may have been charmed by his smooth-talking, all Elizabeth ever felt was awkward.

She finished her food quickly and went to the Homestead. Along the way she met up with P.F. and Dalton, who were on their way to the showers. She stopped and talked with them for a while about how their first day back Running was, and they complained about the heat.

"It was jacked up. Of course the day we decide to go back into the Maze it had to be the hottest, shucking day of the year!" Dalton said.

"Next time the Box comes, I'm going to write a letter to the people to send up some comfortable underwear for running. The ones we have now get really uncomfortable after a while." P.F. said. Dalton and Elizabeth both looked at him.

"I...I was not expecting that," Elizabeth said, her nose crinkling. Dalton grabbed P.F's shoulder and shook him violently.

" _You slinthead, you can't say something like that in front of her_!" he half-whispered, half-shouted. Elizabeth laughed without meaning to. Covering her mouth, she said: "It's okay. I think you should _definately_ ask them for that."

P.F. was mortified. His usually pale face was redder than a ripe tomato. He mumbled something under his breath about needing to take a shower as soon as possible, and he and Dalton parted ways from Elizabeth. She shook her head after they were gone, and reached her hut. She hesitated in front of the door. After several seconds, she turned around and headed over to Newt's hut instead.

* * *

Hank was busy hammering away at the roof of the newest hut. They were trying something new this time, using the over-sized leaves from those weird plants Doug had noticed growing by the Deadheads during Ric's funeral. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but Hank would really miss that little kid.

"Gally, a little help over here?" He put the hammer in his mouth and placed a nail over the corner of the wall. As he expected, Gally suddenly came into view beside him and held the leaf down as he hammered it in.

"Thanks," he said. Gally didn't say anything. Hank was used to the other boy's lack of responses, but today it had been worse than usual, and it really bothered him.

"Know what, shank? I'm gonna tell you something now, and you better listen up," Hank said. Gally just kept holding the leaf down in silence. Hank nearly threw the hammer at him.

"I know you're listening right now, and you know what? I think your attitude is jacked. You never respond to people talking to you, and it is like, the _rudest_ thing in this whole shucked-up place. So from now on you're gonna start answering my questions and talking back to me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings by being _rude_." Gally said, heavy sarcasm lacing every word. Hank felt the blood boil inside of him.

"Listen here, you little shank. You didn't shucking hurt my feelings! Now get it right!" This time Hank did drop the hammer as he grabbed Gally's shirt. The ladder they were both standing on wobbled. "I'm just tired of talking to myself, dammit!"

Gally grabbed the side of the hut, but it was too late. The ladder fell, along with the two Builders. They landed in a heap at the ground, with the ladder close behind. After pushing the ladder off of them, they sat there and looked at each other.

"You klunkheads okay? What happened?" Doug asked, running up. Hank and Gally looked at each other.

"Just clearing something up, is all," Gally responded.

* * *

Newt groaned when somebody knocked loudly at the door. _What do those shanks want now?_ He thought, closing his eyes. He held his breath, hoping maybe they'd get the drift and leave.

 ***knock knock***

And then...

"I know you're still awake, Newt."

Elizabeth? She never visted him. Had something happened? He rolled out of bed and opened the door. She looked back at him for a moment, then pushed past him and sat on the floor.

"Uh...did you need something?" he asked, watching as she started doodling in the dirt with a finger. She shrugged.

"I just came to check up on you, is all." This woman. She was so weird.

"That's all?"

Elizabeth shrugged again, then looked up at him. "I just...I thought you needed a friend."

They looked at each other for a moment. Newt standing with his hands at his sides, Elizabeth sitting in the dirt still tracing outlines of shapes in the ground. And then she said something that took the breath right out of him.

"You wish it had been you, don't you?"

Suddenly he understood exactly why she was here. Fresh pain over Ric's death struck him from out of nowhere, when he had been trying so hard to forget. He hadn't been exactly wishing that he had been the one who was _killed_ , but...Elizabeth had definately struck a nerve.

"It's more like I wish I had been there when it happened," he confessed. Elizabeth nodded.

"I feel the same way. I think everybody does," she said.

Newt waited for her to say something else, but she didn't. What he really wanted was to go to sleep and not talk about feelings or listen to each other's sob stories. What he really wanted was for someone to just understand and nothing else.

"You don't have to-"

Elizabeth cut him off by standing up and wiping her hands on her trousers. "It's okay, Newt." She smiled at him then, and this time it reached her eyes. "It's okay. I understand."

Newt blinked. She understood.

"Are you a mind reader or something?" he asked. Elizabeth gave him a funny look.

"What are you talking about? First of all, if I had the ability to read minds I wouldn't. And second of all, if I did have some sort of superpower it would be the power to control rocks!"

Now it was Newt's turn to give her a funny look. "Rocks? Why would you need to control rocks?"

Elizabeth blushed and gave another little shrug. "I just think it sounds really cool. You don't think it would come in handy? I could literally break a rock in my hand!"

"Yeah, you could also break the walls of the Maze. Some of it is probably made of rock."

"Exactly! Don't make fun of my rock-manipulation power!" Elizabeth punched his arm. Newt smiled. Something heavy lifted from his shoulders. He'd missed talking to her. Out of all the other Gladers, Elizabeth was the one who always managed to lift his spirits. She wasn't without her own hurts either, he knew that now. He just hoped their relationship helped her as much as it had helped him.

"Thanks, Elizabeth," he said. Before she could respond, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. After her initial surprise, she hugged him back. She was shorter than him, and warm. When he pulled away, his chest felt suddenly cold and warm all at once, but she smiled brightly at him like she always had. He realized that she'd been feeling down since Ric's death, too. He hadn't seen her smile like that for a while, and they hadn't really spoken to one another since he died. Usually they would talk to each everyday. He hadn't realized how much he missed it.

"I"ll be fine, I just need some time. I didn't mean to avoid you or anything," he said. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"So you were avoiding me?"

"Well, I mean...I was kind of avoiding everyone."

"It's okay, I think I've been avoiding everyone, too. I'm sad that Ric had to die, but I'm glad you were the one that was with me when it happened."

"Yeah..." Newt hated himself for blushing, "yeah, me too."

"I guess I should go back and try to sleep, right?" Elizabeth walked over and opened the door.

"Yeah." Newt wasn't sure what to do so he just watched her go.

Elizabeth made a little huffing noise. She turned around before leaving.

"Can I tell you something?" She asked.

"I think we both know that even if I say no you'll tell me anyway," Newt joked. Elizabeth made a 'tsking' sound with her mouth, but he knew that she knew he was right.

"You always assume that you are alone. But you are not alone, Newt. You never have been, and you never will be."


	10. S1-Ep10: Don't Call Me Liz

**Season One** **, Episode Ten** _ **:**_ **Don't call Me Liz**

* * *

Chris was bored. Nothing exciting ever happened around the Glade. It had already been a month since he'd arrived, and the Box had come and gone, leaving behind the newest Greenbean, Clint. He was a scrawny kid with big ears and a bad stutter. Chris was glad that he had replaced Ric as Gally's roommate, otherwise he'd be stuck with Clint as his roomie. Gally didn't like him much, but Gally didn't like anybody. At least he didn't whine like Chris did.

Chris chuckled to himself. He wondered how old everybody was around here. Most seemed to be in their late teens, but a few of them, like Will, Doug and now Clint, seemed to be a bit younger than the rest of them. He was thankful that he'd been able to retain memory of his age as well as his name. It would have been awkward had he not been able to remember that. It would bear a problem later in life if he ever needed to know that crucial information. Unfortunately he didn't know his birthday.

Gally remembered his age, too. So it was safe to say that the rest of them did, as well. Chris had made a guessing game at the table, and every time everyone was gathered around eating food, he would try to guess another Glader's age. He kept a piece of paper and kept the information on it pinned up in his room with a rusty nail. He only had a couple of people left to guess.

"Why do you care about how old we are, anyway?" Will asked one night.

Chris had shrugged in response, "I'm just trying to have some fun. Why, you don't like this game?"

"It's not a game, you klunk," Dave added. "Nobody agreed to play."

Chris 'hrumphed.' "What's your problem? Can't a guy have some fun around here? I'm just trying to pass the time."

"Can I read it?" Will asked, gesturing towards the slip of paper in Chris's hand. Chris held it up.

"What, this? Be my guest." He passed the paper to Will who read over it with interest.

"I guess we never talked about our age before," he said. "Wow, is Alby really that old?"

"Hey, watch your mouth, ya dirty shank!" Alby shouted from his place at the table. Will just rolled his eyes and gave Chris his sheet back. "You spelled a bunch of our names wrong," he pointed out.

"What the shuck do you know, ya little punk?" Chris looked down at it for a moment, rereading his notes, but he didn't find any mistakes. Before he could decide which name he'd apparently spelled wrong, Ben ripped it from his hands.

"What the klunk? You even spelled your _own_ name wrong!" Doug, who was sitting beside Ben started laughing.

"Is _'Nut'_ supposed to be Newt?"

"WHAT! Let me see that!" Newt leaned over from the other side and the piece of paper suddenly started making its rounds around the table.

"What the-and why is there a question mark next to my age?" Newt asked.

Chris shrugged: "Because, when I asked, you asked back. You said, and I quote: 'I am...twenty-two?' It sounded like you weren't sure."

"At least he spelled P.F's name right!" Zart said, taking the note from Newt and passing it down. "All you need now is Clint and Liz's ages."

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth spoke up for the first time. Her eyebrows furrowed. "What did you call me?"

"Right here," Zart said, reaching his arm across Newt to show her. "He put you down as ' _Liz_.'"

Elizabeth glared at Chris, "You can't call me Liz!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Chris said, grinning at her. "Is that nickname reserved for Newt?"

Chris watched smugly as Elizabeth's face went from a rosy pink, to a scarlet red. The table erupted into laughter. Newt was mortified. Man, these guys shouted too much.

"WHAT THE KLUNK YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

"NEWT YOU SHUCKING PERVERT!"

"YOU LET HIM CALL YOU LIZ?!"

"THAT WAS FUNNY!"

Chris wasn't sure why they were all so surprised about it. Anybody could see that she spent the most time with Newt. They always sat together during meals, and were always walking around together like a couple. He didn't know why everyone else was so oblivious to it. He waited patiently for Elizabeth to say something about it. Would she deny it? Better yet, would she confess?

"No. _Nobody_ calls me Liz. I don't like it." Elizabeth glared at him.

 _Fine. Go ahead and deny it,_ Chris thought. It was annoying as hell, but if she wanted to pretend nothing was up...he could deal with that. For now.

Ignoring Elizabeth, he turned to Clint, "Thirteen?" he guessed.

Clint frowned, "Fifteen."

Chris jotted down the number. There was only one name left. Elizabeth. He'd been saving her for last.

"Anybody want to try to guess how old Elizabeth is?" he asked. Minho raised his hand, still laughing from Chris's earlier comment.

"Isn't it some sort of unspoken rule that you're never allowed to talk about a woman's age?" he asked.

Hank grunted, "Whatever Minho. She's gotta be twenty-five at least." Elizabeth looked so shocked Chris had to bit his lip to keep from laughing. He pretended to nod with seriousness.

"Nah, it's more like sixteen. She's not that old, you bloody idiot!" Dalton said.

"You're just saying that to make her your age, sweat-head."

"So?" Chris smiled at Elizabeth and licked his lips. Her eyes darted to his lips but the moment was fleeting as she looked away just as quickly.

"Nineteen," she finally said, under her breath. Chris wrote down the number and looked at the completed list:

 _1\. cris(me) - 17_  
 _2\. albee - 22_  
 _3\. nik - 18_  
 _4\. meanho - 19_  
 _5\. dollton - 16_  
 _6\. p.f. - 17_  
 _7\. zart - 18_  
 _8\. galie - 18_  
 _9\. nut - 22?_  
 _10\. dave - 18_  
 _11\. hank - 17_  
 _12\. ben - 19_  
 _13\. dug - 15_  
 _14\. wil - 14_  
 _15\. clint - 15_  
 _16\. liz - 19_

She was older than him, then. He looked at her, still sitting there blushing prettily. She said something to Newt and he laughed, and the awkwardness in the air cleared, as if nothing had ever happened. Chris frowned. He didn't like Newt. He didn't think anybody liked Newt, yet here he was acting like Elizabeth's best mate. Always so chummy with her, wasn't he?

Annoying.

* * *

 _I'm sorry. I wish it hadn't been you. Only one person was supposed to die, but then you had to go and threaten to blab to Nick._ Dave was once again kneeling in front of a gravestone, fists clenched and eyes closed. Only this time it wasn't Billy's grave he was visiting. It was Ric's.

 _I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to be like this, but you've left me no choice._ Rising, he gripped the spear in his hand tightly and stood up.

Today, Billy's death would be avenged.

Today he would end it all.

* * *

Something Chris said had been bothering her all day. Not the suggestive comment about her and Newt, but the fact that he had tried to give her the nickname, Liz.

Liz.

When she closed her eyes, she almost swore she could hear someone calling her that in the distance. Someone...a presence that felt so familiar, and yet...not. She couldn't tell if they were shouting for her, or looking for her, or why they were calling her name in the first place.

Elizabeth brought a hand to her head and tried to shake away the feeling, but suddenly her heart was beating wildly and there was a hand around her throat.

 _Liz._

 _Liz._

 _Liz?_

Elizabeth gasped and fell to the ground clutching her chest. It was so painful, wasn't it? The heartbreak of rejection. The heartbreak of a love unrequited. When she closed her eyes again, the outline of a woman's stern face was there at the corner of her memory, looking at her without pity.

 _I have seen the way you look at him, but you will never have that kind of happiness. Your duty is not love, dear Liz. It will never be love. Because you are different than him. Because you are not immune. Because you are nothing._

 _Liz..._

"Elizabeth!" She felt strong arms around her, shaking her, and then nothing.

* * *

"NICK!"

Minho jumped at the sudden shout. Zart was racing towards the Runners, who had just finished their daily run. Nick had accompanied them this time, and for what it was worth, he'd had a good time today.

Nick lifted an arm at the breathless Zart. "WHAT'S GOIN' ON?" he shouted. Zart reached them and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. When he started coughing, Dalton went over and smacked his back.

"You okay, man?" P.F's hand strayed to the knife at his belt out of habit. The motion stirred something inside of Minho and he went for his own weapon.

"Elizabeth...she just collapsed. I don't know what happened-one minute she was fine and then the next she was...she was just lying there."

"What?" Minho said in disbelief. He hadn't been expecting that. Hopefully she was fine and they wouldn't have to go through the pain of someone dying again.

"She got a heatstroke, maybe?" P.F. wondered. Zart shook his head.

"I don't know. She just lies there and cries and does some weird shaky-thing. I think she's sick or something."

Newt went into what Minho liked to call 'parental mode.' "Where is she?" he demanded angrily. His face was still red from running, and his hair slick with sweat.

"We got her back in her hut. Gally is with her."

Nick punched Zart. "You shucking idiot! Why'd you leave her alone with _that_ shank!"

Nick, Newt, and Dalton folllowed Zart back to the Homestead, leaving P.F. and Minho to visit the map to build their most recent findings. Minho was worried about Elizabeth, but he also couldn't abandon his normal duties. The map first, and then Elizabeth.

"You think she'll be okay?" P.F. asked. He sounded just as worried as Minho felt.

"Yeah, I'm sure she's fine. Maybe she's having cramps or something."

P.F. wrinkled his nose in disgust. "What the bloody hell-"

Minho broke him off: "Nothing. Forget I said anything," _Shucking pervert._

They half-walked, half-ran to the hut that held the map of the Maze. They were almost there when P.F. spoke again.

"Is that Dave?" he asked. The sudden change in subject made Minho look where P.F. was looking. Sure enough, a figure was walking towards them with a strange sort of strut.

"Huh. I wonder what he wants?" Minho said. "I'll go talk to him, you go get a head start on the map," he said. P.F. nodded and they parted ways. As he got closer, Minho could see that Dave was holding a long stick in his hands. Was that what he thought it was? Why in the bloody hell was Dave carrying around a spear at this time of day? Had something else happened? Something worse than Elizabeth fainting? He quickened his pace.

"Hello, Minho." Dave's voice sounded weird-all low-pitched and breathy. There was some sort of unfamiliar glint in his eyes that made Minho think of the Griever sickness. But that would mean Dave had been stung, which he hadn't.

"Yo, Dave! What's up?" he asked as he neared the other boy. He stopped just a few feet in front of Dave, suddenly feeling uneasy. He didn't like the way Dave was staring at him.

"I've come here to kill you." Dave said in the same chilling voice. He held the spear out in front of him. "You killed Billy. Now it's your turn to die."

 _WHAT?!_ Minho stumbled backwards. The slinthead was jacked! He turned around and ran back the way he came, with Dave following at his heels. _Shuck!_ He could stand and face the guy with his Griever-sword, but that would mean that one of them would probably end up wounded, if not dead.

And after such a good day, too.


	11. S1-Ep11: Wicked

**Season One** **, Episode Eleven** _ **:**_ **Wicked**

* * *

She was standing in an empty corridor, her feet bare against the cold metal. She stared at the mirror in front of her, as if she felt the action could somehow change the reflection she saw there. What they were doing was wrong, wasn't it? The world was indeed an unforgiving place, but people were just as cruel.

With a trembling hand, she touched the mirror, then her face. It came back wet from the tears she didn't know had fallen. With a sudden, steely resolve she straightened and wiped the remaining tears away. She put on her fiercest expression and despite the pounding of her heart inside her ears, she whispered the familiar words: " _Wicked is good_."

* * *

Elizabeth gasped and meant to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit her and she groaned instead. Blinking, she tried to figure out where she was. The taste of metal was on her tongue, but she wasn't sure why.

"You're up, then?" She startled at the voice and turned her head to see who it was.

"Gally! Where am I?" she demanded. Gally frowned. There was a streak of dirt on his face that she wished she could brush off.

"In your hut. Do you remember what happened?"

 _In my...hut. Oh._ Elizabeth brought a hand to her head. The dull headache she felt before wasn't so harsh, now.

"Elizabeth," Gally's face was suddenly in front of her, "do you remember what happened?"

"Not really. I remember I was in the garden, and I remember Chris-" Gally cut her off.

"Your memory is obviously jacked. Chris wasn't anywhere near you."

"No, I wasn't done speaking. I mean I remember him calling me Liz and getting upset about it," Elizabeth clarified, raising an eyebrow at him. He raised his eyebrow back at her and she almost had to stifle a laugh.

"You must have been really upset. Don't' worry, nobody wants to call you 'Liz,' anyway. It's too close to _'Lizard.'_ " Gally turned around and grabbed the cup of water that Zart had given him for when she woke up.

"Here," he said, pushing the cup towards Elizabeth. She sat up slowly and took the cup from him, drowning the cool liquid in one gulp. Gally watched her carefully.

"So are you going to tell me what happened, or not?" Elizabeth asked. Gally frowned again.

"I wasn't there, so I don't know. When Zart comes back you can ask him."

"You don't know anything?" Elizabeth smiled and set the cup beside her on the bed.

Gally scoffed. At least she was starting to act like her old self again. "Look, all I know is you fainted in the cornfield or whatever. Zart came for help and we took you here."

"How long have I been out?"

"Not too long," Gally responded. Elizabeth gave him a look but he just shrugged. "I don't think it's even been an hour."

As he finished talking, the door burst open and Zart, Dalton, and Newt filed in. Dalton immediately went for Gally by grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"What'd you do to her, you shank?" he demanded. Elizabeth stood up and grabbed Dalton's arm.

"Stop, he didn't do anything!" she exclaimed.

Zart came around to her with another cup of water. "Are you okay, Elizabeth?"

Newt came to stand beside Elizabeth and Dalton released his hold on Gally. Elizabeth let go of his arm and then took the water from Zart.

"I'm fine, as you can see," she said before taking a sip.

"Fine my butt! What the bloody hell was that? You can't just faint any old time you like!" Zart's face was red as he spoke.

"Zart," Elizabeth said.

"Next time you feel sick, just tell me and I won't make you work!"

"ZART!" Zart took a step back when Elizabeth's voice rose. "I'm okay. Really." She met all of their eyes and spread her arms out and turned in a slow circle, trying to prove her point. They looked so worried, the lot of them, and it made her feel guilty. It felt nice that they cared, but for some reason it highlighted the fact that she was the only girl among them.

"Tell us what happened," Newt said, his eyes still on her. "Did you maybe not eat enough?"

"I don't think I'm sick, if that's what you're asking," Elizabeth said, trying to figure out how to explain that it was some sort of weird vision that had knocked her off her feet.

"Maybe you're tired," Zart suggested. "We've been working really hard lately, and haven't had time to recover from Ric being dead and all."

Gally nodded. "He's right," he said, surprising Elizabeth with his words. She looked at him and he offered her a small smile.

"You're sad about Ric and probably haven't been sleeping well. You were better this week, but some days you don't act like yourself. Don't think we haven't gotten used to your klunk ways and didn't notice."

"Yeah, don't girls need extra sleep or something?" Dalton added, which got an eyeroll from both Zart and Elizabeth.

"Look, just...why don't you just take it easy the rest of the day," Zart said. "Come back to work until you're feeling better."He grabbed the cups from the cot and walked out the door without a goodbye. Elizabeth's heart warmed. In his strange, boyish way, Zart cared about her; they all did, and it was sweet. Unexpected tears sprang up behind her eyes and her nose stung.

"Thanks you guys," she said, turning away so they couldn't see her face.

"Oh it's no problem," Dalton said. He patted her shoulder awkwardly, then walked to the door.

"You coming, Newt?" he asked, before stepping out completely.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Newt said. Elizabeth stepped aside so he could move past her, but instead of going out Newt stepped with her and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into him and her nose hit his chest. His body was warm and he smelled like sweat and earth, and something else, too. Something familiar and safe.

"You smell like sweat," she said. Her face hot, she stepped out of his embrace and looked at the door that had been closed, and then at Gally, who was still standing in the corner with his signature frown on his face.

"It was a memory," she said just above a whisper. Just loud enough for them to hear.

"What?" Newt took a step back, surprised. Gally's frown deepened.

"Nevermind, I'll explain later. Go help Dalton or he'll send out a search party."

"Right," Newt faltered at first, but eventually made it out the door, his mind reeling. Elizabeth felt a twinge of guilt at sending him away-she could trust him with this. But she also knew he had a job and she could just tell him later.

"Excuse me," Gally suddenly stepped in front of her, "Why are you talking about memories and all that crap? Do you remember who you are or something?"

"No, I don't remember who I am exactly, but...when everybody started calling me Liz...I-I think it triggered a memory. That's why I fainted." Elizabeth took a deep breath, wondering if she should be telling Gally this.

"Explain." Gally's eyes didn't leave hers. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"A bit impatient, don't you think?" she said. Gally uncrossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

"What's impatient is you telling me that you had a memory from your real life and expect me to walk away okay with that. You have two minutes to explain, so you'd better start talking."

"Geez Gals, at least let me gather my thoughts. I'm still trying to figure it out, too," Elizabeth ran a hand through her messy hair and closed her eyes, trying to bring the fragments of her dream into some sort of story that made sense.

"Tick tock, tick tock. Don't call me Gals." Gally poked her brow and Elizabeth opened her eyes. He was still staring at her with intense, hazel eyes. She stared back at him and was struck with the realization that he was her friend. The others were friends, too, of course, but they were more like acquaintance-friends. Friends that you would meet in school and share lunch with. Friends to joke with and strike up friendly conversations with. But for some reason, in the short time that she'd known him, Gally seemed closer that that. In all honesty she hadn't spent as much time with him as some of the others, but somehow he'd earned a different place, just like Newt had.

"I trust you, Gals, but you have to trust me when I say that the dreams-no, _memories_ -I had don't really make much sense. I don't think they'll help with our situation."

"Fine. Don't tell me, then," Gally scowled and headed for the door, but Elizabeth stopped him.

"Didn't you just hear what I said?" Gally said nothing. Elizabeth let out a sound of exasperation and sat down on her bed. She took another deep breath and then began relaying the events in her dream, including the harsh words the woman had said to her. As she spoke, Gally faced the door with his back towards her. He didn't make the usual signs of a listener, but Elizabeth knew he was paying attention to each word she said. When she finally finished he turned around with a bored look on his face.

"Is that all?" he asked. Elizabeth nodded. He snorted, and she cocked her head.

"I don't see what's so funny about it," she said.

"It's not funny, it's stupid." His words stung, and Elizabeth rose up to defend herself, but he inturrupted before she could say anything.

"You were in love with some poor shank and this woman tells you that you don't have a chance with him because you're _nothing_? Isn't that a bit dramatic?" To Elizabeth's surprise-and amusement-Gally's cheeks were tinged pink.

"That slinthead was probably jealous," he muttered, "You're a lot of things, Elizabeth, but nothing isn't one of them."

Elizabeth blinked. Gally was...giving her a compliment? A wide smile broke across her face and she hugged him. He stood with his hands pressed against his sides and didn't offer a hug in return, but Elizabeth didn't care. Gally was tough, but his words gave her the understanding that she was his friend, too.

"Get the hell off me."

Elizabeth let go of him, but continued smiling. "That was the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Gals! I feel really touched!"

"Do you? I feel a bit strangled and annoyed." Gally said.

"I don't see the problem. Isn't that normal?" Elizabeth teased.

Gally narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat before changing the subject: "Two things about your memory. 1: What does _"wicked is good,"_ mean, and what was all that klunk about being immune?"

Elizabeth bit her lip, "I'm not sure, but I remember that there was something written on my arm about me being wicked. And maybe she was just talking about being immune to love? She...all I know is she was incredibly upset about the idea of me having a crush on somebody."

"So you thought that being wicked was fun? That's jacked up, Elizabeth. Maybe it's a good thing they sent you down here."

"But that's just it, Gals. They didn't mean to send me here, remember? I wasn't supposed to come."

 _I wasn't supposed to come._

The truth hit like a rock, even though she'd known that before. Suddenly she got a very bad feeling in her gut. She remembered the first day when she told Alby and Nick that she was there to warn and help them, but...what if that wasn't the real reason she came? What if she came to hurt and destroy?

What if she really _was_ wicked?

* * *

What the shuck was taking Minho so long? The others had already started working on the map, and Alby didn't like the feeling he got when someone just didn't show up. Especially when that someone was Minho. Usually the boy was so punctual and never failed to finish a job until it was done. P.F. had told him that he'd stopped to talk to Dave, but what probably should have started as a simple "hello" or "what's up" had gone on for too long.

"I think something's up," P.F. said, as if he'd been reading Alby's thoughts. He looked up from the replica of the Maze and noticed that the others looked just as concerned as he did.

"What did Dave want?" Dalton asked.

P.F. shrugged, "I don't know, I'm not the one who talked to him."

Alby sighed and was about to ignore the absence of his friend when there was a faint shout in the distance.

"Isn't that Minho's voice?" Newt's brow furrowed at the sound. He shared a look with Alby, and then suddenly the four of them were out of the Map-hut.

" _HEY!_ " Minho's voice was closer that time. Something akin to worry began creeping its way into Alby's mind.

"Bloody hell-?" Newt's voice trailed off Minho burst into the clearing. His shirt was covered in blood, and judging by the empty sheath at his side he'd lost his Griever-sword somewhere. The rest of the Runners immediately unsheathed their own weapons, and Alby ran to Minho and grabbed his shoulders. Minho winced in pain.

"What happened, Minho? Talk to me!" Minho shoved his hands away and grabbed his shoulder. Alby realized that the blood was coming from a wound in his shoulder.

"Dave is trying to kill me," Minho rasped. he swayed a little and Alby supported him.

"Dave? What-" before Dalton could finish the thought, Dave came in from out of nowhere, brandishing a spear in his hands. There was a wild, almost crazy look in his eyes, and he didn't seem to see any of them but Minho. Newt dodged a blow from the spear as Dave jabbed it in his direction. He and Dalton sprang into motion, both trying to knock the spear away.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!" Alby pushed Minho out of the way and looked around for some sort of weapon. He settled on a large rock and held it up. He swiveled around to watch as Dave suddenly tossed the spear aside and took several knives out of his shoes, spinning them easily in his hands and moving with alarming dexterity. If Alby wasn't so angry at him he might have complimented him on his improvement. Dave used to be so clumsy and awkward with a blade. The last time Alby had seen him in action was the day some Grievers had followed the Runners into the Glade.

Newt easily blocked an attack from Dave, and Dalton swiped at him from the side, but Dave jumped back. P.F. came in from behind and managed to connect with Dave's back. A line of red blossomed across his shirt but he didn't even flinch. He made a sort of inhuman growl in his throat and Alby felt disgusted. The problem with Dave was the fact that he had murder in mind while the others, including Alby himself, were trying to disarm him without hurting him too badly. Dave knew this as well, and he was trying to use it to his advantage. Unfortunately, one against four was terrible odds. Alby grimaced when the rock he threw connected with the boy's skull with a loud ' _thwack'_. Dave fell forward to the ground and after several breaths the others circled around him.

"SHUCK, Alby!" Dalton half-yelled, half-groaned. "You didn't have to kill him!"

"No, he's not dead," P.F. said, kneeling down to feel for a pulse. "But you probably gave him brain damage or something!"

"You stupid-don't just stand there, then! Get these two to a hut and start calling for an emergency meeting!" Alby said, grabbing Minho to support him. The smell of blood was suddenly getting overwhelming. He looked grimly at Dave as Newt and P.F. picked him up. "I think we found out what happened to Ric, the poor shank."


	12. S1-Ep12: Tidal Wave

**Season One** **,** **Episode Twelve** _ **:**_ **Tidal Wave**

* * *

The meeting was brief, strictly limited to figuring out what to do with Dave, who had obviously gone crazy. Some of the Gladers opted to simply throw him out, into the Maze at night when the doors closed. Others felt hesitant with the cruel idea, and wanted instead to lock him in the slammer until he could calm himself down. Hank suggested they tie him to a tree and let him "hang" for a while. The main problem was that the situation was entirely different any of the ones they'd had before then. If he had been bitten by a Griever it would have been easier.

They finally went along with the slammer idea and moved Dave's body and set him up as comfortably as they could in the prison, making sure to lock it whenever they left. Amid the scrabble of transfer, Dave regained semi-consciousness, but was disoriented and his eyes didn't seem to be able to focus. He wasn't dead, but it was most likely suffering from a severe concussion. When Nick cushioned his head on a pillow and rearranged his blanket, Dave started mumbling something under his breath about Minho.

"Shh. Quiet, now. You're gonna be okay, Dave," Nick soothed. Elizabeth was touched by the gentle way he handled the concussed boy. Nick was always so harsh and critical. He didn't like Elizabeth so she never really got the chance to see the softer side of him. He didn't appreciate weakness and hated confrontation and any type of competition that he felt would mess with his leadership position. Yet there he was, tucking in Dave's blanket and patting the boy's sweaty head with a strange, almost motherly touch.

Later, Nick filled Alby, Minho and Newt in on what Dave had been murmering about.

"The shank was going on and on about killing Minho and making him pay," he said. "Does that make sense to either one of you? Did Minho do something I ain't aware of?"

"Nah, I don't know, Nick. I always thought Minho got along with him fine," Alby responded, crossing his arms.

Minho's hand wandered to the bandage on his shoulder. "I don't remember what I could have done to offend him so much."

"Well you did, and when he wakes up, I don't want you anywhere near him. He's kind of loopy now so we won't be able to get anything out of him until he wakes up properly," Nick instructed. Minho nodded in agreement, and after some more small talk, they parted ways and fell gratefully into their cots.

* * *

 _Where am I?_

Dave blinked his eyes open. The motion was met with a splitting headache and a terrible ringing in his ears. He was staring up at a dark ceiling. He managed to turn his head, his teeth clenching from the pain in his head. He was in the Slammer.

 _What happened? Why do I feel like throwing up?_

A shadow passed over him and someone opened the door. It was Elizabeth. He blinked again, but this time with surprise. As she approached him, he was hit with a wave of dizziness. She was holding a bowl of water and a washcloth in her hand. When she kneeled down in front of him, he managed to focus his eyes on her properly. She jumped at the sight of him.

"Dave!" she exclaimed, "You're awake!"

"Yes," he managed. His voice sounded foreign, as if it didn't belong to him.

Elizabeth pressed a cold cloth to his head and some of the dizziness washed away. Dave closed his eyes and leaned in to her touch. But why was she, of all people, here? He remembered Minho and P.F., but he wasn't sure why they were there in his memory. He'd wanted to kill Minho _so_ badly. He had tried so hard...his arms bristled with the same rage that had consumed him since Billy had been killed.

 _It should have been him,_ he thought, gritting his teeth.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth's soft voice brought him down from that angry place, that cold, empty place of no return. He met her eyes and she looked so worried. Minho's face flashed behind his eyes and he groaned. He hated him. He hated him so much. And all the hatred had risen to the surface until he hadn't been able to control it anymore. It spilled over, and lashed out not only at Minho, but Ric as well.

 _Ric..._

"What have I done?"His voice came out as a whisper, so quiet he thought Elizabeth hadn't heard him. For a few minutes all he could hear was the pounding of his heart and the occasional splash from the washcloth hitting the water.

"Do you remember what happened?" Elizabeth gently pressed. He looked at her again. Her hair had grown during her time in the Glade-it now reached her shoulders and framed her face with sunlight.

"I..." he choked. Suddenly the air was too suffocating. Suddenly it was too cramped and dark. Suddenly all of the hate inside of him melted and was replaced with a burning, hot sensation. He brought his hands to his face and groaned again. His body curled into a ball and he pressed at his temples, trying to make the headache disappear. Trying to make all the darkness flee.

 _What is this! Why is this happening! What have I done!_

Elizabeth didn't say anything. She placed a cool hand on his arm and her skin on his reminded him that he was still alive. She stayed with him even when his body became wracked with guttural sobs, like some feral creature's wailing of death. She never spoke a word, just sat there beside him with her hand on his arm and a washcloth on her knees, waiting for the storm to pass.

* * *

 ***Special Author's Note***

 **Sorry for a shorter episode than normal, but I really liked where this one ended, and it's time for a time-skip anyway. I don't normally write author's notes during the chapters (I think it's somewhat unprofessional) but I'm being a hypocrite and writing one now. I just want to thank you for reading and all the lovely comments. It really means a lot when I see people enjoying my works; it keeps me writing and gives me courage. As a writer, I know that you already know the feeling, but I still wanted to highlight it, so thank you.**


	13. S1-Ep13: A Love Confession

**Season One** **, Episode Thirteen** _ **:**_ **A Love Confession**

* * *

The next month, Frypan was sent up. Much to the Gladers' delight, he took a fancy to cooking and became the Glade's first Cook. The jokes around this change revolved heavily on Elizabeth's old desire for a chef to be sent up. It appeared the the person or people who sent them here had a sense of humor after-all. Perhaps they had chosen Frypan _because_ he had a passion for cooking. The idea, though ridiculous, eased a lot of the previous tension.

Minho was temporarily out of a job-Nick had ordered him to stay put instead of going into the Maze until his shoulder was healed. Instead of protesting, Minho spent two weeks trying to patch his relationship with Dave, who remained in the Slammer despite a heartfelt confession and apology. No matter how many times they pressed him, he kept silent about why he felt such murderous hatred towards Minho. For this reason, they all agreed that it was best to keep him under lock-and-key. He had successfully killed one of their own, after-all.

Frypan proved to be an excellent cook, earning him much praise from the grateful Elizabeth. She took an immediate liking to him and was glad that one of her prayers had been answered. She no longer had to ingest what she liked to call " _poison."_ Things seemed to calm down once Dave had been caught. Although the death of Ric remained in the backs of their minds, it no longer hung in the air as a dark cloud. The Glade returned to normal, and life resumed.

* * *

Elizabeth wiped the sweat from her brow and started digging. Today she had the arduous task of planting the starter trees that had been sent up in the box. She'd already put it off too long, and Zart finally got on her tail about it.

"The hell you think you're doing with those?" he demanded, pointing at the trees in the recently-created tool shed. Elizabeth had shrugged and her nonchalant response really set Zart off. He started cussing her out and lecturing her about the rules of the Glade: _everybody does their part-no slackers._

Elizabeth didn't blame him for yelling at her, she _had_ been the one to offer planting them in the first place. Now she berated herself for not getting the job done sooner. She loved being a Track-Hoe, but sometimes she wished they could all have a day off. Shaking her head, she got to work and didn't notice the boy behind her.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Elizabeth jumped at the voice, dropping the shovel in her hands. She turned around to see Ben looking at her with an apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said. She let out the breath she was holding.

"It's okay. Did you need something?" she asked. Ben bit his lip and averted his gaze, which brought a rising anxiousness in Elizabeth's stomach. After several long seconds he stepped forward.

"I just wanted to catch you while you were alone," Ben suddenly looked up and around, making sure that no-one was paying attention to them.

"What is wrong?"

Ben took another step forward, and suddenly they were so close Elizabeth could feel the fabric of his shirt on her nose. Her face felt like it was on fire. _What is he doing?_

"You didn't push me away," Ben breathed, his voice no louder than a whisper. Elizabeth's heart pounded loudly in her chest and her face exploded into flames. She froze when he took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

"You're beautiful," he said. She could feel the timbre of his words in his chest. His lips found her ear and the shock of it woke Elizabeth from her petrification; she shoved away from him, her head hitting his chin. They both stumbled back from the sudden movement, and Elizabeth bent down to grab the shovel.

"Sorry," Ben's face was as red as hers felt, but he was still sort of smiling. She gripped the handle of the shovel in her hands and tried to steady her breathing.

"Sorry," Ben said again, "I just really like you, and I thought you liked me too?" his tone was more hopeful than apologetic, and it took Elizabeth some time to answer him. The silence was deafening. How long had he had these feeling for her? She racked her brain trying to find something that would help-had she led him on in some way?-but she couldn't remember anything. Ben was...Ben.

"No," she said, finding her voice at last, "I don't see you that way."

It was almost heartbreaking to see Ben's face fall. His whole body seemed to sag, and his countenance changed from one of confidence, to one of shame.

"Oh," was all he said. Then he turned around and walked away without looking back.

* * *

" _What?_ That's jacked!" Newt exclaimed. He was sitting with Elizabeth in their usual spot, their backs pressed up against the wall. He had asked her if she'd had any more memories, and she had just finished telling him that she was worried about her original intentions of entering the Maze. The poor shank had been walking around thinking that instead of coming to help them, she'd come to hurt them? While the thought might have been possible at one point, he refused to believe that she had risked coming just to throw them off. Elizabeth wasn't that sort of person.

"I just have a bad feeling is all," she said. She bit her lip and turned her head until all he could see was the back of her head. She'd tied her hair up with a piece of string, but it wasn't holding very well. Most of it was coming loose and the whole of it was very tangled.

"Didn't we already go over this?" he asked. "Who you were before the Maze doesn't matter, because you're a different person here. Even if you had the wrong intentions, you still brought an antidote and told us that there is a way out. The way I see it, you were trying to help us."

She shrugged her shoulders, and more hair fell out of its hold. Newt groaned inwardly he went to tug the string out, but instead of easily falling out, it caught on her hair. Elizabeth let out a squeal and grabbed her head.

"Are you trying to scalp me?"

"Just hold still," Newt said, twisting his body more so he could work with both hands. "And anyway, why would someone with evil intent come to the Maze in the first place? You obviously knew that you'd be trapped here. If it were me, I wouldn't have wanted to come all this way knowing that I wouldn't be able to get back. I mean, in all reality you didn't actually help us that much."

"Hold on-I brought the antidote!" Elizabeth lifted her head when he pulled on the string some more. Bloody thing was all knotted around a couple of strands.

"Yeah, okay, but that was pretty much it. You told us a bunch of gibberish about finding a way out and whatnot, but why waste your time on bringing us the antidote and giving us warnings if you were evil? That's pretty stupid."

"It is not stupid! Wouldn't you want your victim to trust you?"

"Elizabeth. You lost your memory and essentially became a different person. We would have had to trust you either way. If you were really evil, I don't think you would risk coming all this way just to get us to like you and then forget everything. That accomplishes nothing."

Elizabeth sighed and let out another small sound of pain when he took hold of the string and tried breaking it free again. She brought a hand behind her head and tried it herself, forcing him to drop his hands.

"Bloody hell Elizabeth, don't you ever brush your hair?" he asked, suddenly conscious of what he'd been doing. He watched her hands work on de-stringing her muddled hair-so small and slender compared to his. When she pulled away, the back of her hand brushed against his nose. He drew away, realizing how close he was. A strange stinging sensation filled his stomach, and he scooted farther away from her. Elizabeth didn't seem to notice. She frowned down at the strands of hair that had been pulled off along with the string and then threw it on the ground and turned back around to lean her head back on the wall.

"Would you rather I brush it, or just cut it all off?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I have one lousy comb and that's it, plus I work in the sun all day. What do you expect?"

"Well, I'd rather you don't cut it," Newt said, "you'd look more like a guy that way."

"Maybe that'd be better..." Elizabeth mumbled. She shifted her hips and for some reason the movement made Newt uncomfortable. Shuck, what was _wrong_ with him, today?

"Don't cut it." Newt said. "You wouldn't be you that way."

"Oh? And what makes you think I prefer long hair? Maybe I want to be bald, you don't know." Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at him and Newt chuckled.

"True, but if that were true, it would have been shaved a long time ago," he said. Elizabeth cocked her head in thought, her lips pursed together.

"You're right, of course," she laughed. The sound of her laughter was always so pleasant. It was no wonder that everyone was always trying to make her laugh. The air went quiet and a gentle breeze brought the sound of crickets starting to come alive. It was getting dark; Frypan would be calling for dinner, soon.

"Can I tell you something?" Elizabeth's voice was strangely soft. Newt uncrossed his legs and leaned closer to hear what she was saying.

"Sure," he said. She smiled at him and placed her hand over his as it rested on his knee. Her skin was surprisingly cool. As if on a reflex, he flipped his palm over and held her hand. It felt natural-her fingers fitting in the spaces between his with their palms melding together. Her smile widened, creating little creases around her eyes, and Newt smiled back. There was a strange, almost suffocating feeling in his chest and his cheeks felt hot.

"You are my best friend." Elizabeth squeezed his hand. Right. Yes. Newt shook her hand and then let go, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"You're my best friend, too," he said, and it was the truth. Before Elizabeth, he'd always thought of Alby or maybe Minho as being his best friend. Klunk, they _were_ the best friends a guy could have, but he had never been as real with them as he had been with Elizabeth. There was a connection between them that was almost unexplainable. He trusted Minho and Alby and all the rest of them-except maybe Gally and Chris-but Elizabeth was the one who knew him better than any of them. In a way, he trusted her the most.

"That makes me really happy!" Elizabeth said, and then she slugged him in the shoulder. "Let's go eat, I'm starved."

"Yeah, me too," Newt said.

They walked to dinner together in silence, Elizabeth probably thinking about food and Newt thinking about the way her skin felt against his. About the way her eyes crinkled up with sheer joy, the grey-blue of her irises a bit lighter than usual. About the way the color of her hair caught on the first rays of moonlight, falling across her shoulders. About the way she listened and talked as if it was important for him to know as much as he could about what she was thinking, and about the comfortable way they could always go a bit deeper with their conversations. Everybody else was better at small talk, and it was harder to know them that way. With Elizabeth, he felt that he could open up in a way he couldn't with any of the others.

He thought about the way he had felt when she told him that he was her best friend. He'd agreed with her, so why was it so weird? What had he thought she was going to say? Shuck it all, what had he _wanted_ her to say?


	14. S1-Ep14: Awkward Encounters

**Season One** **, Episode Fourteen** _ **:**_ **Awkward Encounters**

* * *

"What's on the menu tonight, Frypan?" Minho asked, taking a seat at the table. The friendly boy just smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.

"That would be a surprise, my friend." Frypan was already everybody's friend, even though he had been there the least amount of time. It wasn't just that he was the cook-his friendly, approachable manner was accompanied by a slightly chubby, sort of endearing demeanor that drew the others towards him. Ever since the day he'd arrived in the Glade his clothes had been a mess, and it was no different now. Tonight the mess was created by a certain, tomato-y substance that Minho thought he would never see again.

"Spaghetti?" he said, getting excited. "Now we're talking!" He tapped his fingers on the table and waited while Frypan brought the pot of spaghetti to the table.

"Congratulations Minho, you get the first serving!" Frypan made a swooping bow, and as if they could sense food, the other Gladers started pouring around the table and began ladling heaps of noodles onto their plates. Ben sat next to Minho on his right, and Will took the seat at his left. As per routine, Elizabeth and Newt sat together, and P.F. and Dalton started arguing about which was better-spaghetti with the tomato sauce, or without. P.F Argued against the sauce, while Dalton took the sauce-on side.

"What klunkhead wants to eat naked noods?" Dalton asked. A couple of the Gladers around him laughed, but P.F. shrugged and twirled his fork in his hand.

"Sauce just gets in the way. If they're alone, you can just melt butter on top with a little bit of salt..." he closed his eyes and shook his fist. "Mmm sounds good already!"

"Whatever. I know how to settle this. Yo! Elizabeth!" Dalton signaled the girl with a head-bob. She looked up from her food with a noodle still halfway out her mouth.

"Would you rather eat spaghetti with sauce or without it?" he asked. Elizabeth slurped the rest of the noodle up and pursed her lips.

"I would have to say without it," she said, her nose wrinkled as she looked at Dalton. "Sorry."

"TAKE THAT YA ROTTEN SHANK!" P.F. pumped his fist into their air and started gloating. Several other boys joined in, but most of them sympathized with Dalton.

"Man that's messed up! She likes naked noodles, too?"

"SHUCK! What is this world coming to!"

"You won't catch me buttering noodles."

Elizabeth waited for the chaos to calm down before she posed the question: "It's my turn, then, isn't it? "

Minho raised an eyebrow. "Turn? We weren't playing a game," he said. Elizabeth shrugged.

"Dalton asked me a question, and so I get to ask someone a question, too."

Alby stroked his chin, interested. "Any rules to this game of yours?"

"Let's make it so we can only ask 'would you rather' questions," Elizabeth replied. The noise level at the table gradually quieted. Elizabeth's proposition of playing a game as a whole Glade was intriguing and seemed fun.

"Aw what the hell," Nick said, twirling a noodle around the end of his fork, "Count me in."

"Then my question is for Frypan to answer," Elizabeth said. Frypan looked up mid-chew. He hadn't expected to be chosen.

"YEAH, GO GREENIE!" Hank whooped.

"What sort of bloody nonsense is this?" Zart grumbled beside him. Elizabeth cleared her throat and clasped her hands together, apparently trying to appear formal and composed.

"Would you rather be stuck in the Maze alone, or with someone you hate?"

Frypan blinked. "Um...I don't really hate anyone," he said.

"But if you did?" Elizabeth said, and then she smiled. "This is all theoretical, Frypan."

"Damn. I think I would choose to be alone," Minho said, probably remembering how much Dave hated him.

"I wouldn't want to be alone, though," Chris said, leaning back in his chair. "Besides, if I had to run away from a Griever, I could just stab the guy and escape."

"You would sacrifice another person? That's jacked up!" Newt was incredulous, but Chris just smiled. A discussion arose around the ethical issue Elizabeth's question had brought up, and by the time things had cooled down enough for Frypan to finally answer the question, the spaghetti was gone. This night, however, nobody left the table. The only one missing was Dave.

"I choose to be with someone I hate," Frypan answered. Elizabeth nodded.

"What's your reasoning behind that?" she asked.

"I don't know, I just wouldn't want to be alone in the Maze. If I'm going to die, I'd rather have someone with me."

"So it's your turn, then, right, Greenie?" Doug asked. Frypan looked around the table at all the faces, trying to pick the right victim.

"Gally, let's go with you," he finally said. The boys turned to look at Gally, who, while was still sitting with the group, didn't look like he was paying much attention. He glared at Frypan when his name was called, but he wasn't given a chance to decline.

"Would you rather drink vomit or eat toenails?" Frypan's voice was strong. His question earned him a good round of laughter and several other gross jokes to be passed around. Gally crossed his arms.

"Toenails," he said.

"GROSS GALLY" Ben said. Gally just raised an eyebrow and then narrowed his eyes.

"I choose Minho and Chris," he said. Minho grinned at the chance to answer and Chris ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Curious about me, roomie?" he asked. Gally didn't reply, instead, he asked his question.

"Would you rather always lose or never play?"

Chris sucked in a breath, but his answer was immediate. "Ooh, good one, Gally. I would choose to lose rather than miss out on all the fun of the game." He winked at Elizabeth and she focused her attention elsewhere.

Minho took a bit longer, but he eventually settled on never playing, and then continued the game: "I'll ask Ben. Would you rather have to cut off your own arm, or the arm of your friend?"

"And I'll take Clint. Would you rather be attacked by one Griever, or by all the men in the Glade?" Chris asked.

The game continued with much debate and conversation. It was more engaging-albeit more opinionated-than they had originally expected, but everyone later agreed that it was a nice change from their usual, less mature chatter. They left dinner much later that night than usual

* * *

After the satisfying dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, Elizabeth excused herself from the table and walked to her hut to begin her nightly routine. She was about to open the door when Ben stopped her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around until she was once again eye-level with his chest.

"Ben-" she started, but he placed a calloused hand on her lips to quiet wrapped his other arm around her, holding her against him as she started to struggle.

"I'm sorry, but can we just talk about this alone?" his voice was husky and his breath fanned across her cheek. Elizabeth screamed against his hand and wriggled, but Ben just dragged her forward until they were inside the hut. There he released her and she scrambled away from him.

"Don't scream!" Ben held out his hands and Elizabeth stood frozen in place, her eyes wide as she watched him carefully.

"I don't want to hurt you or anything, I just want to-" this time it was Elizabeth who cut him off.

"Don't do this. I am not in love with you, and I am not interested in being romantically involved in any way with you. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but you need to leave."

"If you would just let me kiss you, maybe you would see that-"

"NO. NO, BEN." Elizabeth's voice raised to a shout and Ben checked the door. His arms fell to his sides and he was so still it made Elizabeth even more nervous. She looked around for something- _anything_ that might help keep him away.

"I'm not trying to be a creep, I just really like you," Ben finally said, without looking at her. Elizabeth found that she couldn't respond. She just stood there watching his back, waiting for him to either say something else or leave. Fortunately the moment was broken when somebody opened the door.

Unfortunately, that person was Chris.

"Good evening, Elizabeth. What are you doing in there?"

Ben panicked and swirled around, looking at Elizabeth with desperation. She said nothing, but kept her eyes on the newcomer, wary of his presence. Chris smiled at her and leaned against the door-frame.

"Is he bothering you, miss?" he asked, gesturing towards Ben. Elizabeth followed his gaze and met Ben's eyes. He stared back at her with blue eyes. She turned back to Chris and gave him a bright smile.

"He wasn't bothering me, but thanks for checking."

"Oh really? I thought I heard you shouting? Are guys allowed to be in here, anyway?" Chris cocked his head and reached out and moved a strand of her hair behind her ear. His finger gently caressed the edge of her jaw. Elizabeth flushed and shook her head, causing him to drop his hand. _Why is this happening!_ she thought.

"I was shouting because...because I think I might have been an actress in my past life, and Ben wanted proof so I demonstrated a scene!" The lie was incredibly cheesy at best, but it was the first thing that popped in her head. Chris seemed amused; he leaned forward and suddenly, before Elizabeth could process it, his hand was on her breast and his face was impossibly close. His body was angled in a way that Ben didn't notice, and the man that had been hitting on her just moments before was forgotten about.

"Yes, she is right. I thought it was interesting, her being an actress and all. She is quite good, actually," Ben stuttered. Chris didn't even look at him. He gently squeezed Elizabeth's breast, and to her horror she couldn't react. She couldn't do anything. _What is happening!_

"Mmmm, is that right?" Chris asked, and then he removed his hand when Ben started walking towards them.

"Anyway, I'm sorry to bother you, Elizabeth," Ben said awkwardly. He slipped past the two of them in the doorway and was gone. Elizabeth started shaking for real then-her head ached and her heart pounded with fear. Chris smiled at her and then frowned.

"Don't cry," he said. Elizabeth instinctively closed her eyes when he leaned in. Something wet touched the corner of her eyelid and the tears that had fallen there were licked up.

Elizabeth screamed. She forced her body to react and brought her knee up into his lower abdomen as hard as she could. He let out a grunt, and his arms went for his stomach. She took the chance and sped past him, her body propelling itself forward out of sheer will. She ran towards an unknown destination, trying to forget everything that had just happened. Trying to forget Ben and his confession. Trying to forget the weight of Chris's hand...

She ran until her lungs screamed for oxygen, and then she ran some more. She ran until her legs felt like jelly underneath her, until the world started spinning and she couldn't see what was in front of her. Some of the Gladers who were still awake shouted at her as she ran by, but she didn't hear them. All she could hear was Chris saying: ' _Don't cry_.' All she could hear was the desperate beating of her heart and the ragged gasps of her breath.

When she finally collapsed, she was at a part of the wall she didn't recognize, and the air was cold with the shadow of night. She fell to the ground face first and sobbed into the dirt, trying to wash the nightmare away. She wept because Chris had taken advantage of her. She wept because she had stood there and done nothing. She wept because no one knew. But most of all, she wept because in all her time living in the Maze, she had never felt so alone.

 _I told you, Liz. I told you he would hurt you. Love is nothing but heartbreak._

* * *

Newt was almost dreaming when someone knocked on his door. Why did everybody always knock on _his_ door? Why didn't they ever bother Nick or Alby?

"Newt?" It was Minho.

"Come in," he replied sleepily. His friend came in, and Newt silently cursed him for being such a night owl.

"Sorry if I woke you, but I think you should go find Elizabeth," Minho said. Newt looked up at him.

"Find her?"

"Yeah. Hank and I were talking and she just ran by suddenly. It was a while ago, so I woulnd't really care except that I just talked to Zart and he said he saw her too."

"Maybe she runs every night," Newt mumbled, turning his face into his pillow. "Go to bed, Minho."

"Normally I might agree with you, but Zart said she looked really upset. He tried yelling at her but she wouldn't stop."

"What does this have to do with me? She's probably sleeping now." Newt could feel sleep...it was so close. Minho shook him suddenly and he groaned. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm awake," he said.

"Zart was really worried so he went to check up on her, but she's not there, Newt. She's not in her hut."

"And you think I'll be able to find her?"

"You're her best friend, or at least that's how she sees you, anyway," Minho sighed. "Look, Zart is looking for her now, but I really think you should be the one to find you. Hard as it is for me to say...I think she feels the most comfortable around you."

Worry for Elizabeth crept in as his brain finally processed what Minho was telling him. "I'll find her," he said, slipping his shirt over his head. Maybe she was having another memory or something. He wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, more awake now that he was standing. _Shuck_ it was cold. Elizabeth was probably freezing in that skinny body of hers. Minho clapped him on the shoulder.

"I know you will," he said.


	15. S1-Ep15: A Blanket of Stars

**Season One** **, Episode Fifteen** _ **:**_ **A Blanket of Stars**

* * *

Newt was about to give up his search when he finally found Elizabeth at the West Wall. She was curled up in a ball with her face towards the ground, most likely huddling with the cold. As he got nearer to her, however, he realized that her whole body was trembling and every so often she emitted a fragile whimpering sound.

"Elizabeth?" he kept his voice low, so not to startle her. She made no immediate response, but her body stiffened when he stood over her. He tentatively reached a hand down to touch her shoulder, but when she flinched, he drew away and crouched beside her instead.

"Elizabeth are you okay?" No response. Newt took the blanket from his shoulders and draped it around her and she sat up and pulled the corners of the blanket closer. It was dark enough so he couldn't see her features, but he could tell that she'd been crying. He felt a sharp pang in his heart. Perky, joyful Elizabeth was _crying_. He hadn't seen her cry before, and watching her now-with her shoulders shaking and the little hiccups she made-he decided that he never wanted to see her cry again.

Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around Elizabeth's frame, pulling her closer to him. With the blanket around her, she leaned in and leaned her forehead into his chest. They sat like that for several, terrible seconds until she sat up in his arms and stopped sniffling. His arms were long enough that she remained trapped in his embrace, but instead of trying to break away, she sat there defeated. Newt hated to be the first to break the silence by talking, but he had to say _some_ thing.

"What happened?" he asked. Elizabeth sighed, and he half-expected her to avoid the question, but she answered it.

"I feel really lonely," she said. Not a true explanation, but it was something to go off.

"I understand, I get that way too," he said truthfully. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Elizabeth shook her head and Newt let his arms fall. He lay his back on the grass so that he was staring up at the night sky. After a pause she joined him and offered him half of the blanket. It was warm from her skin and damp from her tears and the dewy grass. They lay so close that their sides were pressed together. Newt felt that strange ache in his stomach again, and was overcome with the urge to take her in his arms again. The need to feel her closeness, to smell the perfume of her skin and the soap from her hair. To feel his skin on his and the weight of her body...

He was thinking irrationally, of course, but bloody hell if he couldn't stop thinking about _her_. Every time he closed her eyes she was there. Damn, when had he turned into such a sap? He knew the reason, but it was too hard to admit. She was his _friend_ , for klunks sake, and friends didn't go around professing love to each other.

"Newt?" her voice broke his focus on her proximity. If she wasn't such a girl, he would probably be feeling tired again by now.

"What?"

"How did you know I was out here?"

Newt laughed weakly and brought his hands behind his head. She had to shift away so his elbow wouldn't hit her face.

"That shank Minho woke me up. Apparently he and Zart saw you running and got concerned."

"That was nice of them," she said. She turned her face to look at him, aware of how close their bodies were. His skin was pale against the grass, and he stared upwards, his eyelashes silhouetted against the night sky. Those boyish freckles dotting from his neck to his ear. She remembered the sticky feeling of Chris's tongue on her eye and that spark of loneliness hit her again, tainted this time with utter disgust.

"It's so hard being the only girl here," she said. Newt looked at her and she went on. "Girls need other girls so much, just like men need other men. I can live without them, but it's so hard. A girl would understand me on a deeper, more emotional level than the guys here, and a girl would be able to help sort out feelings and rant about menstrual angst. I hate that it's so messy and inconvenient here." Elizabeth's nose wrinkled. "Sorry," she apologized, as if remembering her present company.

"Let's not go there," Newt agreed, but he didn't dwell on the subject.

"I can't talk about boys with other boys," Elizabeth continued. "It's just so difficult not being able to talk for hours at a time or being able to show vulnerability."

"I'm sure we could let you be vulnerable?" Newt's statement came out sounding more like a question. Elizabeth smiled.

"Maybe, but I think it would make everyone really uncomfortable. No offense, but I don't think men can offer me as much comfort and understanding as another woman could."

"You're right," Newt said, and he took one of his hands from behind his head. "I guess in a lot of ways you're even more lonely than I am."

They both stared up at the stars, and Newt grabbed Elizabeth's hand and squeezed it.

"Remember what you told me before?" he asked. "You said that I'm never alone, and you were right. I'm not alone, but I still can't help but feel like I am. When they put me in the Maze I lost my family, my friends...my whole life. Even if I was sent back today, I wouldn't be the same person that I was before I was taken. Whether I'm here in the Glade, or back home, I don't think I'll ever feel completely whole again."

Elizabeth squeezed his hand back, still staring at the sky. A star shot across the sky and she smiled sadly. "Maybe neither of us were whole to begin with," she said.

* * *

Elizabeth woke up to the sound of birds. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see Newt's face only inches from hers. His hair was messy with sleep, and the blanket they shared was hanging lazily over the shoulder that was facing her direction. He hadn't woken up yet, his chest rose and fall with the gentle rhythm of sleep. She suddenly became aware of how their legs were tangled together underneath the blanket, and the heat emanating from his body. No wonder it was so warm-they must have fallen asleep sometime last night after talking. If someone caught them, who knows what would happen.

Elizabeth's cheeks flared and her heartbeat increased, but she didn't move away. Instead, she watched Newt sleep and wondered what he was dreaming about. His features looked so boyish in sleep, with his eyelashes fanning his cheeks and his lips without an expression. He murmured something and snuggled his face into the ground, and Elizabeth was hit with an overwhelming amount of fondness for him. He was so safe. So comfortable and warm.

She bit her lip to fight the sudden urge to touch his hair. It looked so soft, which was strange because nothing in the Glade should be soft. Everything was so dirty and filled with grime it was hard to feel clean. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, once again recalling the details of the night before when Chris had touched her without her consent. Thank the stars it was Newt who had found her instead of someone else.

"...'Lizbeth..." Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat. Was he awake? She opened her eyes, but his were still closed. He smelled warm and familiar; almost spicy. She felt herself leaning in despite herself. _So comfortable,_ she thought. And then...

"What time is it?"

Elizabeth jumped back, her face burning and her heart pounding loudly. _What the hell was that?_

"Um, I have no idea. Morning?" Elizabeth guessed, feeling suddenly very embarrassed.

Newt opened his eyes and blinked them into focus. When he saw Elizabeth his eyebrows furrowed. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something else, but he didn't.

Something in Elizabeth's stomach twisted. _When had Newt become so painfully attractive?_ Had he always been that way? Her nose wrinkled as she thought about it. His hair was still a sandy blonde, his eyes the same cinnamon brown. Her eyes darted to his parted lips and she blushed. When he smiled his dimples formed and made him look younger than he actually was. In all of her time here Newt hadn't changed, but something inside _her_ had.

Compared to the others, she had to reluctantly confess that Chris was the most aesthetically pleasing. Still, she had never been drawn to Chris the way that she was drawn to Newt. That alone counted for something, right? That alone made her feel better about Chris's dark good looks and the way he tried to use them against her.

"Newt..." she wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him about Ben's confession. She wanted to tell him how Chris had touched her without permission. She wanted to tell him how she just stood there and let him do it-the way she had simply watched him and felt powerless to stop him.

"I'd better get some breakfast," Newt said, "The Runners will be heading out, soon."

The moment was broken when he stretched and the blanket was tugged away. Elizabeth rolled away and sat up to run a hand through her hair.

"You're right," she said, her voice unsteady. "I need to take a shower."

Newt gathered the blanket in his hands and the two of them started making the long track to the Homestead. They didn't speak and Elizabeth felt her chest constrict, wishing that she was different while at the same time realizing that she had _always_ been this way. She had always been this scared, lonely person who never stood up for herself. She had always been this ugly, disgusting coward-gullible and easily manipulated. She didn't know the full reason sneaking into the Maze, but now she understood that it had been in part, a way for her to escape from everything and start over.

* * *

Chris was acting weird again. Gally frowned at his hut-mate's back. The other boy was humming and sauntering around like he owned the place. The stupid Gladers didn't seem to be half as annoyed with him as they should be. They actually seemed to like the shank-flighty attitude and all. In his opinion, Ric had been a better hut-mate.

"Is something wrong, Gally?" Hank asked.

"No," Gally responded.

"Good, that." Hank resumed his work and Gally took another look in Chris's direction. The Bricnic was helping them out today and Gally admitted that he did a good job, but the slinthead wouldn't shut up. Worst of all he'd taken off his shirt like some damn prick. What, was he too good for a shirt? Gally shook his head and went back to work. No matter how much he disliked Chris, he couldn't let it bother him. Besides, he got along with everybody else and at least he didn't slack off and didn't snore at night. That, at least, was one redeeming quality.

"What the shuck?" Hank cursed beside him, and when Gally looked up to see why, his ears pricked immediately. The Box was coming up.

"The month isn't even up, yet!" Doug was already running towards the sound, and the others followed. Gally dropped the nails in his hand and put his hands on his pocket. He walked more casually than some of the others and Minho caught up with him.

"What's the matter, Gally, too tired to run?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Gally scowled and the other boy shrugged as if he'd expected as much. The other Gladers were surrounding the Box with mixed emotions.

"What are those shanks doing!"

"What is going on?"

"Who is it this time?"

Nick cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted down the hole after opening the doors: "HEY! DID YOU SLINTHEADS LOSE TRACK OF TIME?"

Alby pushed him out of the way, "Don't shout, you crazy klunk! There's a Greenie in there!"

But there wasn't. When Alby and Nick jumped down, there was no signs of another human being inside. No food, no animals, no tools, no nothing. All that was in the Box was a lone crate in the center.

"Man, they probably sent this up as a mistake!" Will suggested.

"Idiot. Nothing gets sent here by mistake," Zart retorted, and then added: "Except maybe Elizabeth."

As if on cue, Elizabeth and Newt appeared. Newt was holding a blanket and Elizabeth's hair was in tangles. They weren't holding hands, but they might as well have been. Gally was smart enough to realize they'd been together all night, and for a second the Box was forgotten as the idea registered in the minds of the others. But then Nick and Alby came up with the crate, and Elizabeth and Newt didn't matter. Gally snorted-it wasn't as if anything happened anyway, they were two of the bloodiest, most oblivious pansies in the whole Glade.

"What's in it?" Clint asked. He surprised Gally by asking him instead of someone else. Clint was usually so quiet and skittish around him. Gally shrugged.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

The Glade was strangely silent as Alby and Nick pried the top of the crate off. Alby took one look inside and blinked. Nick's face became angry as he studied the contents.

"What the hell is this?" He pulled out a frilly piece of cloth that had been ripped up. It took several beats for the others to realize what it was. Newt dropped his blanket and strode forward to grab it out of Nick's hand.

"Is that a dress?" Minho asked.

"Not anymore, anyway," Will said, eyeing the tattered thing.

"What kind of klunk message is this!" Gally could hear the anger and frustration in Hank's voice.

"Let's just say they've finally decided to acknowledge the foreign presence in their precious Maze," Nick spat, taking something else from the crate and holding it up. It was a creamy envelope with a name written on it in elegant handwriting.

"It's for you, Elizabeth."


	16. S1-Ep16: Elizabeth's Gift and

**Season One** **,** **, Episode Sixteen** _ **:**_ **Elizabeth's Gift and Frypan's Invention**

* * *

 _Elizabeth,  
_ _I understand why you left. You believed you were doing the right thing. Or perhaps you believed your absence would solve something here. I must confess that I miss you greatly and wish you had taken the time to think about your actions and their consequences. You will not remember this, but you must know: you do not belong in the Maze. You were never meant to go there. I am disappointed with your actions, but we cannot undo the past. All we can do is move forward. I have sent up a crate with some of your favorite things. You will find a vial of liquid among the contents there, wrapped carefully in bubble-wrap. Please drink this and remember. It will not replenish all of your memories, but it will give some back. Hopefully the memories it decides to give you will help explain things. I do not expect to see you again, so this is my goodbye.  
_ _I love you,  
_ _Mother_

Elizabeth clenched the note in her hands and closed her eyes. She sat in her hut, the crate sitting open in front of her waiting patiently. All she had to do was close the distance and dig through the contents. It was right there, all she had to do was start. Nick and Alby had carried the crate to her hut after giving her the letter. Neither of them said a word as they dropped off the crate and left her alone with it; neither of them sought an explanation. Their silence spoke louder than their words could, however, and Elizabeth knew she owed the Gladers an explanation as soon as she could give it to them.

Finally she crept forward and looked into the crate. There was another box inside the crate, as well as the tattered dress still lying where Nick had thrown it. She picked that up first and ran her hands across the frilled sleeves, testing to see if her fingers remembered the fabric. It was a dark blue dress with frilly white sleeves and a bottom edged with lace. Other than that, it was a simple-looking thing and didn't appeal to her taste very much. Perhaps in another life she had treasured the dress, but now it meant nothing. It was ripped beyond wear, anyway, so there wasn't much point on lingering over it any longer. She tossed the dress aside and opened the box inside the crate, revealing an assortment of objects.

There was another dress, a forest green summer dress with tiny white flowers. It was intact and was cuter than the other one, in her opinion. She brushed her fingers against the collar but once again there was no memory attached to the feeling of it. Underneath the dress was a floral shirt and a pair of jeans. She wrinkled her nose. Whoever she was before the Maze had strange taste.

A leather-bound journal caught her eye and she went for that, but as she brought it towards her, a piece of paper fell from the pages. It was a picture of a dark-haired boy leaning over a table of test tubes and other science-y looking things. He was wearing a pair of goggles and holding a syringe of blue liquid in his hands. Whoever it was, he didn't seem to know that his picture was being taken at the time. In fact, there was a sort of glare to the picture as if it had been taken through a glass window. She turned it over but there was nothing written on the back to indicate who it was. She let the picture fall back into the crate and opened the journal to a random page.

 _Dear Diary,  
_ _Still no cure. I'm starting to think there_ is _no cure. So many have been lost, so many lives have been sacrificed...I'm starting to regret everything Mother has done. She keeps saying that sending these Immunes into the Maze will reveal a cure, but I don't understand. I've seen their files and she's lied about so many things. Did she think I wouldn't find out? Does she seriously think they can build immunity by sending them into a place where they can be killed by those stupid robot-creatures? Couldn't they have made it a bit easier, at least? I don't see how this is helping anything. I don't like to oppose Mother, but I don't agree with anything she's doing. I hate WICKED. I_ hate _it.  
_ _~E.P._

So it was some sort of illness? This was the reason behind the Maze? Elizabeth turned the page and was slightly annoyed by the next entry.

 _Diary,  
_ _Thomas smells really nice. Kind of musky and leathery, I guess? Whatever cologne he's using it's great. Anyway, he's one of the only people here I can talk to. Teresa hates me, Janson is an old creep, and all Mother talks about is this "WICKED is good," crap.  
_ _~E.P._

Most of the other entries were just as irrelevant as the second entry, and had a lot of fluff about this "Thomas" person, which was a little embarrassing and somewhat immature. Thomas must have been the boy the woman in her dream-memory had been warning her about. She remembered the woman's words about heartbreak and how much more important he was than her. Elizabeth got a funny feeling in her stomach as she continued. Whoever this Thomas-boy was, she had obviously fancied herself in love with him. She sighed and flipped through the rest of the journal.

After a certain point her other-self had stopped writing. Elizabeth had hoped that there'd be some sort of entry on her decision to sneak into the Maze, but there was nothing. She was about to put the journal back in the crate, but on a sudden whim she turned to the last page, revealing a final entry. She sucked in a breath as she read the contents:

 _Immune: Nick Alby Minho George Dave Kevin Will Dalton Doug Zart Ben Ric Gally  
Non-Immune: Rob Newt Billy P.F. Marco Hank Elizabeth_

What the hell was this? First she read about some sickness they apparently couldn't find a cure to, and now _this_? A list of the people who were supposedly immune to the disease? She'd already known that she wasn't immune from her memory-dream, but before now she she assumed she was the only one. She was the only one who wasn't supposed to be here, anyway, and before now she hadn't put two-and-two together. _Is this why we're here, then? Because of some disease? s_ he thought.

What did it all mean? Was someone here sick and they didn't know about it? She re-read the list. She was relieved to see that most of the Gladers, including Gally and Minho were immune, but Newt...Newt was like her.

A tinkling sound drew her attention and she looked into the crate just in time to see a vial roll out from underneath a ball of padding. She tossed the journal aside and picked up the vial. The liquid inside was a greenish color and the glass was warm to the touch. Holding it close to her chest, she searched the remaining contents in the crate. There were a few more pictures, mostly of the dark-haired boy, though there were two of her. There was a box of multi-colored gummy candies and another bag of feminine products, but that was it. That was all that was in the box.

Gummy candies and clothes. They had sent up nothing but useless things! Even the contents of the journal weren't terribly helpful, though they _did_ offer more of an explanation to the reason they were here. Someone was trying to fight a disease, but the way they were going about it made absolutely no sense. Elizabeth squeezed the vial in her hands and then held it out. Her mother had said that it would replenish some of her memories, but could she really trust someone she didn't know? After a pause she replaced the vial in the crate, using the crumpled bubble-wrap to conceal it.

* * *

"So what was in the crate?" Nick asked at the table that night. Elizabeth shrugged.

"A pair of clothes and some feminine products. Nothing special, really."

"You expect us to believe that? Did you read the letter at least?" Dalton said. Elizabeth nodded.

"Yeah, it basically said that I'm not supposed to be here. It proves that I sneaked in without permission in order to get you that antidote," she replied.

"Hey, speaking of surprises!" Frypan cut in. He was carrying a cup over his head triumphantly.

"We weren't," Clint said. Doug nudged him in the abdomen.

"What, are we we supposed to be impressed by your strength or something?" Minho crossed his arms and grinned, "Everybody can hold up a cup, ya nitwit."

"Funny," Frypan set the cup down in the center of the table, "It's what's _in_ the cup that counts."

Sixteen heads leaned in, all trying to get a look into the cup. Alby was the first to take action. He reached forward, grabbed the cup, and took a sip. The other Glader's watched his face for some sort of reaction, but Alby just looked at the cup in his hands and raised an eyebrow at Frypan.

"What is this?" he asked. Frypan grinned.

"Something amazing," he said.

"LET ME TRY!" P.F. grabbed the drink from Alby and took a drink. His face convulsed and the liquid dribbled from his mouth as he tried to swallow it down. Dalton, who was sitting next to P.F., shook his arm.

"P.F!" He turned to Frypan, "WHAT THE SHUCK MAN!"

P.F. swallowed and coughed: "This stuff is the BUNK!"

Suddenly the silence at the table turned into a shuffling chaos as the rest of the boys scrambled for a try. Chris tried it and went for more but was stopped by Hank who pulled it from his mouth by force.

"IT'S MY TURN YOU SHANK!"

"I have more!" Frypan piped up, which just made the chaos increase. Elizabeth was shoved to the ground as Newt and Minho lunged forcefully past her, crashing into each other in the process and grabbing each other's shirts to try to stop the other one from getting at the pot of concoction that Frypan brought over. Gally punched Hank in the shoulder and the two ended up on the ground, shortly joined by Doug and Ben, who were engaged in their own fight and fell over the two on the ground. Nick threw himself on Frypan and ripped the ladle out of his hand.

"GIMME THAT SPOON GREENIE!" he yelled. Frypan howled and let go of the ladle. Nick snatched it up and scrambled towards the pot, dipping it in and gulping down the...whatever-it-was.

"HELL YES!" Nick went in for another ladle-full but was intercepted by Zart, who rammed into his side and took the ladle for himself.

Elizabeth yelped when someone stepped on her. She quickly go to her feet and stepped away from the turmoil and watched the boys fight over their chance at getting a drink.

"MOVE OVER, YA MOUTH-BREATHER!"

"I WAS HERE FIRST, GET YOUR OWN CUP!"

"SONOFA-GET OFF ME!"

Why in the world did Frypan think introducing an alchoholic beverage would be a good idea? Nothing good could come from this. She was about to leave when Nick pulled on her sleeve. She gave him her attention because he usually never paid her any. He was holding out a jar to her, filled almost to the brim with a brown, murky-looking liquid.

"Try it," he said, and then shoved the jar in her hands and re-joined the fray. Elizabeth stood holding the jar in her hands. Finally she shrugged and brought it to her lips. Her taste buds were overwhelmed by the yeasty, bitter flavor of it. She forced herself to swallow it down and then bent over, gagging.

"HEY! CAREFUL WITH THAT!" Minho grabbed the jar out of her hands before it all spilled out.

"My throat is burning," Elizabeth said, covering her mouth in disgust. Minho just grinned.

"I know, it's great!"

"It's gross!"

"You've obviously never tasted liquor before," Minho took a swig from the jar.

"Liquor? More like poorly made moonshine," Elizabeth retorted. Minho raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why so critical? We can't all have the finer things in life," he said, and then thought about it. "Yeah, I guess I'd peg you as more of a wine-lover."

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and Minho laughed. There was a queasy feeling in Elizabeth's stomach as she thought of the effects of alcohol. It probably wasn't a good idea for her to stay here much longer, especially if this sort of behavior kept up. Maybe no one was drunk now, but then again, who knows how long these men had gone without a drink. Maybe _none_ of them could hold their alcohol.

"MINHO!" Alby grabbed Minho's shoulder and Minho cursed when he dropped the jar and the last of the contents spilled onto the grass. He turned an angry face on Alby and punched him. Alby reeled back, almost falling to the ground from the force of it. When he came back, he was grinning. Will and Clint started whooping and a few of the others started casting bets. Her sense of dread rising, Elizabeth left. This time, nobody stopped her.

* * *

The next few weeks passed fairly quickly, albeit rather wildly. Jeff was sent up, replacing Frypan as Greenie. He didn't seem to like any of the jobs that were offered, so Nick appointed him as the first Slopper. He did the jobs that no one wanted to do: cleaning the shower stalls and scrubbing the dinner table clean, among others. Elizabeth was excited to be the one to show him all the ropes. Dalton was usually the one who showed the Greenies around, but this time she had asked him if she could do it. He agreed and she found that Jeff was an agreeable, sweet boy who was more concerned with the well-being of others than himself.

On request, Frypan supplied the Glade with his moonshine and the drink started appearing everywhere, much to Elizabeth's horror. Every night at dinner what started out as an energetic toast always ended in some sort of drunken brawl. And every night Elizabeth left before things got too crazy, and ended the day with a brisk run and a refreshing shower. Ever since her little mishap with Chris, she'd found that running-though not her first choice of exercising regime-made her feel good. When she ran, she didn't think of anything. When she ran, all she could think about was running. It was surprisingly very meditative.

One evening, when she was running past the doors to the Maze, she stopped to catch her breath and leaned against the wall of names. She raised her arms above her head to control her breathing, and was about to start up again when she heard a clanging sound. Curious, she walked over to the entrance of the Maze and stared in. There was another clanging sound, this time followed by a whir and an almost mechanical growl. Fear gripped Elizabeth's heart and she took a step back just as what she could only guess was a Griever stepped into view. When it saw her it stopped and Elizabeth could hear its ragged breathing. Knees trembling, Elizabeth dared to take another step back.

The Griever screamed. It was the most feral, bloodcurdling shriek she had ever heard. The sound reverberated painfully against her ears and every single hair on her body stood on its end. Unable to scream in return, Elizabeth gasped and started running, her survival instinct taking over. The Griever followed her movements and every step it took made the ground beneath Elizabeth's feet shake. It was so fast...she didn't dare look back.


	17. S1-Ep17: Grievers in the Glade

**Season One** **,** **Episode Seventeen** _ **:**_ **Grievers in the Glade**

* * *

There were Grievers inside the Glade. Nick felt and heard them before he saw them - their metallic limbs stomping heavily on the ground and their piercing screeches bouncing off the walls. He jumped up with the others, their drinks forgotten. Minho and Newt shared horrified looks with each other, and Alby's face was more stern than Nick had ever seen it. It was his time to step up and be the leader everyone expected him to be.

"Everybody needs to be armed, NOW!" Nick ran for the small wooded hovel where they kept all of their weapons, both handmade and those sent up with the Box. He grabbed a machete and turned towards Minho.

"I need the Runners up front and prepared to defend. A lot of these other shanks don't know what they're in for, especially the newer Greenies." As he spoke, Minho nodded his head in understanding. He snapped his fingers at the rest of the Runners and began, well, _running_. Before they followed their leader, Dalton and P.F. shook hands and Nick was worried about how close some of these kids were. It was fine when their world was at least semi-stable, but when things like this happened...friends were torn apart. That's why he never let himself get close to anyone here. He knew if he gave himself that kind of luxury it would be his downfall later on.

"HANK!" Nick shouted at the bigger boy. Hank stood to attention and Nick clapped him on the shoulder and looked him square in the eye.

"Choose who to take and find a way to get them things back to the Maze, or distracted long enough for one of us to kill 'em," he said. If there even _was_ a way to kill the damn things. Hank took a spear and two back-up knives and turned around.

"GALLY, CHRIS, BEN, WITH ME!" he shouted.

One-by-one, the Gladers started breaking off into their own little groups, some under Nick's direction, some under the direction of their own. Nick made sure no one went alone and saw to it that Clint, Frypan, and Jeff were well-supervised. When he was left alone he ran to the slammer, trying to blot out the cries of terror and the mechanical humming sounds around him.

"It's about time!" Dave burst out of the Slammer and Nick handed him a meat cleaver.

"Don't even think about using this on one of us," he warned. Dave frowned and took the weapon.

"Come on!" Nick propelled Dave through the surrounding bushes and they went to find the Grievers. They weren't hard to find; they were still far enough away from the Homestead that Nick felt relieved. By some lucky chance they were sticking closer to the wall. There were only two of them, but they had already done some damage. Much of the sod beneath their feet had been ripped up and there were heavy scratches on the walls. The Runners seemed to be the experts on how to dodge their attacks, but even _they_ were having trouble taking on two at once.

Dave let out a cry and ran headfirst into the battlefield. Nick followed suit and tackled Will to the ground just before one of the Griever's legs bore into his chest. He got up and the two of them rolled away when the Griever let out a scream and tried again, thrusting its face into the dirt where they had been lying.

Nick took a swing at one of its legs and managed to slice at it, but blast it all if they weren't all made of harder stuff than human skin. Whoever had made these things had done a good job with the armor. _The slick bastards._ Nick cursed under his breath and circled around, trying to find a weak point.

Not too far away, the Runners found themselves facing one of the Grievers alone. Dalton had managed to severely wound the beast's head, but it wasn't giving up. P.F. dodged an attack and the Griever lashed out with its mouth open and snapped at the Runner. With an inhuman yowl, Minho suddenly leapt up onto the Griever's back legs. The Griever reared back and twisted its body in an attempt to dislodge him, but Minho kept his grip. He worked his way up until he straddled its back. Newt took the creature's distraction to land some blows in its side, relieved when some of his blows hit their target. The Griever roared in frustration and slammed itself against the wall. Minho slid dangerously to the side and the Griever took another swat at him with its legs, but Minho managed to stay on its back.

"HEY!" Suddenly Hank came in from out of nowhere, holding a flaming torch. The Griever cocked its head and dove towards the flame, momentarily forgetting about the boy on his back. Minho started stabbing downwards wherever he could, trying to pierce into the flesh of its head or back. Hank started running towards the entrance of the Maze with the Griever close behind.

The second Griever was in altogether better shape than the first and was doing more permanent damage. Clint and Jeff threw rocks at it, and Zart did his best with his chosen weapon: the pitchfork. The Griever had already managed to sting Will, and the Glader was passed out near Alby, who was trying to keep the Griever from doing any more damage to him. Many of the Gladers had been wounded by the monster - cradling wounded arms or limping along from deep leg cuts.

Gally joined Hank, holding another torch. He waved his arms and the Grievers were drawn to the light, as if hypnotized. Minho finally stabbed his knife into the Griever's neck and it screamed. Minho leaped down and rolled across the grass, bruised, but whole. Gally's blood ran cold when Hank went in to ignite the Griever as it writhed in the air above him. Rather than setting the Griever aflame, Hank was suddenly thrown aside by a giant leg and his clothes caught on fire. Before he could process it, Gally watched as the second Griever came in from out of nowhere and chomped down on the bigger Glader, engulfing him whole.

* * *

Somebody screamed. _Everybody_ was screaming. Newt wanted to cover his ears and drown out the sound. There was blood on the ground. It was so dark Newt couldn't tell if it came from a Griever or one of his friends. This was some sort of nightmare come to life. He watched as the second Griever, the one who had killed Hank, stabbed Doug. The poor shank had never even seen it coming; his back had been facing the wrong direction. _I have to get out of here,_ he thought. When the same Griever started his way, Newt ran out of its way and nearly collided with Gally.

"WHERE THE HELL IS ELIZABETH?" Gally shouted, his veins practically popping out of his head. His eyes were red and his hands were shaking, but he looked ready to kill. Newt shook his head. He'd been keeping an eye out for her, but she didn't seem to be anywhere near the fight. He didn't know whether he should be panicking or relieved, so he was feeling a little bit of both. _I can't...I can't do this._

"WATCH OUT!" Ben yelled.

Gally jumped out of the way just as a Griever swung out at them. Newt wasn't as lucky. The air was stolen from him as sharp metal connected with his abdomen and he landed on the ground painfully. The Griever loomed over him, and all at once Newt felt that he was staring death in the face. He gasped but didn't try to get up. He looked around and all around him were the walls of this prison. All around him were the dying breaths and tortured cries of his friends. He closed his eyes and prepared to -

"NO!" Newt opened his eyes and somebody dropped out of a tree. He hadn't realized how close to the Deadheads they'd gotten. It was Elizabeth. She landed in front of him before the Griever could kill him and stood there, just standing in front of his prone form.

"Elizabeth...what are you doing?" Newt choked on his own breath and coughed, trying to stand. _Please, no._ He willed her to just run and save herself. She did not move.

"I will not let you touch him," Elizabeth's voice was eerily calm. The Griever attacked and Newt felt something break inside him. He wasn't going to lie here and watch Elizabeth die!

A shrieking Gally flew in from the side with a spear and plunged it into the Griever's side. The Griever screeched and stumbled away. Gally grabbed Elizabeth's shoulder and shook her angrily.

"WHY'D YOU JUST STAND THERE YOU IDIOT!"

Elizabeth turned to look at Newt, who had gotten to his feet. He looked at her with eyes full of anguish, and then he ran into the woods.

"That slinthead, what does he think he's doing? We're in the middle of a battle!" Gally cried, tugging on Elizabeth's arm, and then thought better of it. "You should hide, too. You don't even have a weapon."

Elizabeth couldn't answer. She was staring at the place where Newt had ran. Why had he looked at her like that? Why had he stopped fighting? Seeing him there, just... _preparing_ himself for death had made her so unbelievably angry. She broke out of Gally's grasp and ran in the direction Newt had gone. _How dare he!_ she thought. _How dare he lie there and do nothing!_

"Newt!" she called his name, her voice raspy with unbridled rage. Why was she so furious?

"NEWT!" She tripped and broke her fall with her hands, then cursed at the ground. _He's so stupid, I hate him!_

"I'm sorry," Newt stepped out from behind a tree and helped her up. She brushed the dirt off her pants and meant to glare at him, but stopped when she saw his face. His cheeks were streaked with tears and his eyes...she had never seen him look so lost before.

"I'm sorry I ran. I'm sorry," his voice was breathless from running, and riddled with emotion. Her anger completely forgotten, Elizabeth hugged him. When he hugged her back, she turned her lips to his ear.

"It's okay," she said, fighting back her own tears. It hurt her so much to see him like this. So broken and sad. She held him as tightly as she could.

"It's okay," she said again, "everybody runs, sometimes."

* * *

When Minho thought he couldn't take it any longer, the Grievers suddenly stopped attacking. They froze up and made a hissing sort of noise, and then skittered back through the Maze's entrance. Just as they made it through, the doors started closing for the night. Minho took a deep breath and threw down his Griever-sword. All around him were the bodies of his friends. Some were merely exhausted from the fight, but others...others he feared would not wake up again.

Jeff and Clint launched into action, telling Nick and Alby what to do with the wounded, and like a somber parade, the group made their way back to the Homestead. While Clint and the Greenbean tended to the wounded, Nick did a headcount.

Doug was gone. Will was gone. Hank was gone. P.F. had been stabbed by the Grievers, and already they could see the effects it was taking on his body. Soon he would be completely taken over by the Griever sickness. Minho put his head in his hands and groaned. How much more of this destruction could they take?

Gally had turned into a zombie - probably from the sheer shock of it - and Newt had gone missing. Elizabeth had been lost from the beginning. Minho wondered if maybe she was dead, too. Dalton stayed with P.F., arguing with anybody who tried to help him. Frypan poured moonshine on his wounds and in his mouth. Some of the others were doing the same thing. Zart and Chris had been wounded badly, and even Clint, who was working so hard on binding their wounds, was suffering from injuries himself.

Minho cursed. Two Grievers. Two bloody, shucking Grievers was all it took to render them helpless.


	18. S1-Ep18: Newt's Decision

**Season One** **,** **Episode Eighteen** _ **:**_ **Newt's Decision**

* * *

Time passed in a blur. Hank, Doug, and Will's names were added to the Wall along with the others, and they were buried beside Ric in the Deadheads. After miner deliberation, everyone agreed that P.F. would receive the antidote Elizabeth had brought with her, and after a few days he was in full health. While no one regretted using their only antidote on P.F., the Gladers were much more aware than usual that they did not have any more of it. Dave was released from the Slammer for good, but the heavy weight from Ric's death had returned a hundredfold.

A month passed, and then another. Winston was sent up, followed by Louis and Snow. Clint and Jeff became the first Med-Jacks, realizing their interest in doctoring the other Gladers. The two of them became fast friends and spent the bulk of their time together, which Elizabeth thought was sweet. Louis joined the Builders and Gally replaced Hank as leader, though he wasn't too thrilled about the prospect at first. He really missed Hank and his silent, yet authoritative presence.

Winston became Keeper of the Slicers and Snow joined Elizabeth and Zart as a Track-hoe. He wasn't Ric, but Elizabeth enjoyed working with him. He had a lot of enthusiasm and liked to keep things positive. Like Ben, he expressed interest in Elizabeth and told her as soon as he knew. Unlike Ben, he left her alone and stopped bothering her about it after she turned him down. That alone was enough to earn him her respect. He didn't make things awkward, and their relationship did not change when she turned him down. In fact, it improved.

Chris and Ben were still problems for Elizabeth. She had to explain almost every day to Ben that she was not interested in him romantically, and twice Chris cornered her and made uncomfortable contact. Nothing as serious as the first time when he'd touched her breast, but he came dangerously close to her bottom once, and he liked to grab her waist. He mostly tried to elicit unease. He took some sort of sadistic pleasure in Elizabeth's reactions. She had yet to tell anyone about his behavior. Every time she tried working up the courage to say something, embarrassment and shame stopped her.

At night, Elizabeth and Newt walked to the Wall together and talked about their day, leaving nothing out. Elizabeth was honest with her feelings and daily sorrows, and Newt confided in her about his grief over the unexpected Griever attack. They did their best to comfort each other and share each other's burdens. It was great and all, but Elizabeth got the feeling that he was keeping something from her. It hurt her to see him so reserved and withdrawn from everyone. She tried to get him to talk about it, but he was being so awkward with her. She was closer with him than ever before, but she was also farther away. He couldn't always bring himself to look her in the eyes, and every time they shared physical contact he flinched away and got shy. It was odd, certainly, but more than that it was painful and heart-wrenching for her.

"You know you can tell me anything, right, Newt?" she told him one night. She reached for his hand, but he pulled away before she could grab it. So instead, she leaned in to him and pressed against his side, savoring the feeling of the heat from his body on hers. She closed her eyes and turned her face into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. He shifted uneasily.

"I know," he said, his voice somewhat strangled.

* * *

Elizabeth was holding the vial of green liquid again. The memory potion. She stared at it and tried to imagine what remembering would be like. How would it feel? Would it smell different? Taste different? Seem different? Once her eyes had been opened, would she be able to go back? Not knowing was hard, but maybe knowing was harder. She remembered the first time she and Newt talked together at the Wall.

"I can't," she whispered. She held the vial at her chest and blinked away tears that were forming. "I'm sorry, but I can't do it."

She carefully wrapped the vial in bubble-wrap and put it in it's usual place in the wooden crate. She still hadn't worn any of the clothes, or opened the candy. It remained in the corner farthest away from her bed, like an unwanted guest.

* * *

Running helped take the edge off the harsh reality of their imprisonment. Dalton shook the sweat off of his hair and stretched his legs and arms with the others. The day had been uneventful, which was a welcome relief. The Grievers had been more active lately, but at the same time less inquisitive about the Gladers' movements. Dalton looked over at P.F. and the other boy gave him a head nod. Ever since getting stung by the Griever, P.F. had been acting strangely. Dalton was relieved that there was a healthy flush to his cheeks and he had survived the Griever-sickness because of Elizabeth's antidote, but something was different.

"Some day, eh?" he asked. P.F. shrugged and didn't reply. Dalton was disappointed. Usually he and P.F. could talk together about anything, even the most random things. He didn't like all the one-sided conversations he was getting after Running. It was like P.F. was holding something back; like he knew something none of the rest of them did.

" _Shank_ ," he muttered under his breath, hoping P.F. would retaliate to the word. Nothing. The other boy took no notice of Dalton's insult and started walking to the Homestead. Ruffled, Dalton followed him and grabbed his shoulder.

"Are you even listening to me, ya shuck-faced idiot?" he demanded. P.F. shoved his hand off.

"Get off my case, Dalton," he said, and tried to resume walking, but Dalton wouldn't let him. He couldn't take this anymore. P.F. was his _best friend_ , for heaven's sake! He was grateful for Elizabeth and her antidote, but it had done more than heal P.F.'s body. It had stolen a bond that he had treasured. P.F. didn't talk to him anymore. He didn't listen, and he didn't seem to even _care_. Dalton was done. He wasn't going to let this continue.

Without another word, he grabbed P.F.'s shoulder again, swung his fist back, and punched his friend in the jaw. P.F. stumbled forward and hit the ground, his hands effectively catching his fall. For a beat he was quiet and very still. And then, he jumped up and rushed at Dalton with his own attack. The two of them smashed together with an awful 'thwack.'

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" P.F. shouted, kneeing his friend in the abdomen. Dalton grunted, then landed another punch in.

"STOP IGNORING ME, SHANK!"

The fight continued, catching the attention of the other Gladers.

"YO" Minho said, jogging over to them. "Break it up, guys, we just got back from running!"

Nick caught up to them: "At least wait until after dinner, ya shanks!"

"Who's winning?" Chris asked, chuckling. Newt shot him a death glare.

"What does this look like to you, Chris?" he asked, his voice tense. Chris put up his hands defensively and looked over at Dalton and P.F., who were on the ground screaming at each other. Dalton's nose was bleeding profusely and P.F. was on top of him, hitting his face and kicking his side. After a moment Dalton rolled over and coughed, before reaching out a hand and wrapping it around P.F.'s ankle. He pulled and P.F. tripped, which gave Dalton leverage. He slammed P.F.'s head into the ground and roared angrily.

"OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH, BREAK IT UP I SAID!" Nick yelled. It was becoming obvious that this wasn't one of their normal, more friendly wrestling matches. Gally, Zart, and Alby gathered around the two of them and tried to pry them apart.

Minho had never seen Dalton and P.F. so angry before. He had been surprised when they started fighting - they all had. He never in a million years expected those two to turn on one another. The shanks were best friends. _Everybody_ knew that. Out of everyone in the entire Glade, Minho would say that Dalton and P.F. had one of the closest relationships. And now here they were, trying to bloody kill each other!

Newt watched as Gally and Winston pulled Dalton away while Alby and Zart grabbed P.F. Both boys were bleeding and their faces were muddy and bruised. He watched them struggle against their captors to break free from the hands that held them. He watched as they cursed and spat and yelled. He had seen the moment they had turned against one another; had seen the look of hatred in their eyes. One minute they had been walking, and the next, they were on top of each other with fists and teeth and elbows. Newt felt bile rise in his throat.

They had saved P.F., but at what price? If saving someone's life meant they had to lose everything else, then what was even the point?

"Newt?" Newt looked over at Minho, who was staring at him, and raised an eyebrow.

"You okay? You look a little stressed," Minho said. Newt smiled and shook his head.

"Nah, I'm fine. Just tired from running, is all," he replied. It wasn't all a lie. He really _was_ tired, just not necessarily from running.

"Good that." Minho nodded and they stood together, waiting for Dalton and P.F. to finally calm down.

* * *

"I'm worried about you, Newt," Elizabeth said.

She was sitting with him at dinner, but she wasn't really excited about the meal. Newt could feel her eyes on him, but he refused to look at her. He felt her leg pressed against his under the table, and smelled the soap on her skin. Her hair was wet from a recent shower, and every once-in-a-while a wet strand would hit his cheek when she turned to talk to Gally who was sitting on her other side.

The table was starting to get crowded and too small for the number of Gladers. Honestly, Newt was fine with Elizabeth being so close, but Snow was on his left and was no further away. They couldn't even bring their elbows up without bumping up against some other shank. It was making him feel claustrophobic.

"You don't like the soup? I think it's pretty good," he said. Elizabeth frowned at the sudden change of subject, but thankfully didn't pressure him.

"It's fine," she replied, and then started eating.

After dinner, Newt said goodnight the them all like usual. He was friendly and chappy. He hugged Elizabeth after saying goodnight and didn't let her go until she let out a muffled protest. When she pulled away her face was flushed prettily.

"Your eyes aren't as blue as I thought they were," he said. Elizabeth's nose wrinkled.

"What do you mean, _not as blue?_ They're plenty blue!" She swatted his arm.

"They're more grey than blue," Newt explained. He smiled at her but Elizabeth just gave him a funny look.

"O-okay," she said, "That was kind of random."

Newt shook his head, "Not random, just...true." He sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"You're silly," Elizabeth teased. Her nose was still slightly wrinkled. It made Newt's chest warm. He always felt warm around her.

"You'll always be my best friend," he told her. It was the truth. He had told Minho and Alby something similar, and it had been the truth, too. They were all his best friends, just in different ways. Elizabeth looked startled again, but then she smiled widely.

"You'll always be my best friend too, Newt!"

* * *

It was easy to climb up to the top of the wall, with all the vines growing around. When he reached the top, he took a minute to catch his breath, and then looked out. All around him was the Maze. He looked down and saw the stone beneath him. His head swam and he took a step back and turned around, facing the Glade.

It looked so peaceful. There was a slight breeze moving through the trees of the Deadheads, and smoke was rising from the fire pit in the middle of the Homestead. If he listened hard enough, he could hear voices, deep and soft. The sounds of dusk, the sounds of another day ending.

Newt took a deep breath and looked down. There was soft grass below, but it was far away. He closed his eyes and thought of his friends. He thought of Minho and all of his lame jokes. The way he was always the one who encouraged the rest of the Runners as the ran around the Maze, looking for a way out. He thought of his friendly smile and dark thatch of hair, so unlike any of the other Gladers.

He thought of Alby and his calm, steadfast nature. His natural way of leading things that made it hard and almost awkward to treat Nick as the higher position. The way he used a loud voice at the dinner table and never asked for things before reaching across the table for whatever he needed.

He thought of Gally and his familiar broodiness, and Frypan with his crazy laugh. He thought of Zart and Louis and Winston and all the newer Greenies. He thought of Ric and Hank, and all the others they had lost. He thought of Elizabeth and the way her nose wrinkled whenever she was upset or confused or just because. Elizabeth and her girlish laugh and button nose and more-grey-than-blue eyes. She was kind and brilliant and witty and had a bloody-good sense of humor. He didn't remember any of the girls in the real world outside the Maze, but he didn't need to. Elizabeth was beautiful. She was special. She was a part of the Glade. She was his, and theirs, too.

Newt opened his eyes, took a deep breath...

 _I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I promise I will miss you the most._

...and he jumped.


	19. S1-Ep19: Elizabeth Has a Drink

**Season One** **, Episode Nineteen** _ **:**_ **Elizabeth Has a Drink**

* * *

Elizabeth didn't know what to do with herself. The room felt like it was spinning. Someone placed a hand on her shoulder - meant to be comforting but instead offering nothing but empty weight. Newt's attempted suicide had thrown everyone off balance. Thank God Alby had spotted someone on the wall and was going over to tell them off about it when the figure jumped. Thank God Alby had been there to get help and make sure Newt was in a stable condition. Thank God Alby had been there to muffle the sounds of Elizabeth's screaming against his chest when she saw what happened.

She was in the Med-hut with Alby, Minho, Nick, and the two Med-jacks, Jeff and Clint. Nick was pacing angrily in front of Newt's bed while Jeff and Clint looked him over. His leg was bent at an unnatural angle and there was blood in his hair, but they hadn't yet found the source. Minho was sitting with his palms together in a chair by the door and Alby was leaning against the wall, his hand on Elizabeth's shoulder.

She felt like crying. She felt like screaming. Never in a million years had she expected Newt to do something like this. She looked over at his unconscious form, spread out on the bed like a rag doll. She looked at his closed eyes; at those boyish freckles dotting his neck. She knew he was sad, but she hadn't known he had been like...like _this_. What had triggered this depression, this pain? She always worked so hard to make him happy. She always tried so hard to be there for him, as a friend. She had done so much, and yet so little. Why hadn't her attempts - _no_ , why hadn't _she_ been enough for him?

Aly squeezed her shoulder and said something, but she didn't register his words. Everything was so blurry. She blinked hard and stared up at the roof, wishing that there was a hole to reveal the stars. Alby shook her and this time pulled her to her feet.

"Hey listen, we've been talking and we think you should go to bed. It's late, and Newt wouldn't want you worryin' none about him, anyway," Alby said. She tried to say something, but all that came out was a pitiful sob. Embarrassed and terrified, Elizabeth shrugged him away and shook her head, trying to wipe the tears away.

"I will not," she choked out. Alby and Minho shared a look, and then turned to Nick, who had finally stopped pacing. He scratched his head and then took a step forward and wrapped an arm around Elizabeth.

"Let's go," he said gently. "Come on."

Elizabeth didn't have time to react before Nick took her hand and led her away. Somehow she managed to walk the whole way to her hut, stumbling and crying, feeling scared and alone and so hurt. All she could think of was _Newt, Newt, Newt._ She cared about him so much, and this is how he repaid her? By jumping off the Wall and trying to leave her? Earlier that night he had told her that she was his best friend. Best friends didn't do this to each other. Best friends didn't hug you one minute and then hurt you the next.

When they arrived at her hut, Nick sat her on her cot and meant to get her a cup of water, but was stopped by Elizabeth grabbing him and hugging him. She'd never felt so panicked and terrified.

 _What if he dies! What if I never see him again! Oh shuck what if he dies! He's my friend! I don't want to lose my friend! Newt!_

"Shhh, it's okay, Elizabeth. It's okay." Nick returned the hug and Elizabeth's whole body shook as she held Nick with all the strength she had.

She wept harder than she had the day Chris had harassed her. She wept harder than she ever thought possible, and Nick let her. He sat there and let her hug him and cry into his shirt. Surprisingly, his behavior wasn't entirely shocking. He had never really expressed interest or even friendliness towards her before, but she remembered when Dave was in the Slammer with a concussion. Nick had been like a mother duck then, too. Rather than taking advantage of the fragility of the moment, he set aside their differences and offered what little he could as comfort.

* * *

Elizabeth refused to go to the Med-hut the next day. Well, not _refused_ , exactly. The truth was, she _couldn't_. She couldn't bring herself to go and see him. Whenever she thought of Newt lying on that cot so pale and broken... _she couldn't do it._ Her stomach churned and her head swam and her eyes filled with tears and threatened to break her heart. She felt so guilty about not going to see him, but her fear was stronger than her guilt. No matter what she did, she couldn't take her mind off of him. No matter what she did - whether it was working in the gardens or taking a freezing shower or running through the Deadheads - she could not distract herself from the fear of losing him forever.

At dinner she sat next to Gally, who was not as good at offering comfort as Nick was. In fact, he actually seemed to feel a lot more awkward about the situation than he should have, in her opinion. Zart asked them all if they wanted to play another round of Would You Rather and Elizabeth joined in readily, eager to participate in anything that might stimulate different thoughts. The other Gladers were just as ready to blot the thought of Newt out of their minds.

"Question for Snow: would you rather lick the ground of the showers, or lick Frypan's nose?" Zart asked. The boys hooted and started taking their own sides of the question. Elizabeth's nose wrinkled. They always managed to think of gross questions. Winston pretended to genuinely think about it, stroking his chin with his thumb and forefinger. Then he grinned.

"Frypan's nose, of course!"

"What the legitimate hell, dude!" Clint made a gagging face.

"Are you kidding? I'd choose that too! Shanks piss in the shower!" P.F. pointed out. A chorus of disgust followed him. Minho put his hand over his mouth and pushed his plate away.

"Prove this! Lick his nose right now!" Winston said.

"YEAH!"

"LICK IT RIGHT IN THE NOSTRIL!"

"HOLY KLUNK HE'S GONNA DO IT!"

"My turn," Snow said, after the chatter had died down and he had tried -and failed due to Frypan threatening him with his namesake - to actually lick the other man's nose. "This one is for our good leader, Nick."

Nick raised an eyebrow, and then crossed his arms as if to say, "bring it, Greenie."

Snow's question took them all for a turn: "Is it true you think you could drink any of us under the table?"

"What? Where the shuck did you hear that?" Nick retorted. Snow shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. Are ya gonna answer me or not?"

Nick's reply was imediate. He poured himself a jar of Fryan's moonshine that always sat in a pot in the middle and guzzled the whole thing down in front of them all. When he was finished, he slammed the glass down on the table.

"How's that for an answer?" he asked. Snow smiled and then looked around the table.

"Any challengers?" Snow was met with the entire Glade - Newt aside - staring at him with wide eyes, as if they hadn't heard correctly. Elizabeth watched as some of them began silently getting themselves a drink. After a moment, she stood up and went for her own glass.

"Me," she said, "I'll challenge."

The air fell silent once again. This time the Gladers were utterly shocked. Elizabeth hadn't even _tasted_ the moonshine since the night it was first introduced. Now she was suddenly up for a drinking contest?

"Elizabeth, I don't think that's-" Gally was interrupted by a cheer of approval from the others. The rest of them were already filling up their own drinks, some already on their second or third rounds. Some of them already feeling full and hearty. Somebody jostled the table and somebody else dipped their jar into the pot, not even bothering to use a ladle anymore. They started shouting off numbers to keep track of how many drinks they'd had.

"Shuck, Frypan! This stuff is even more wicked than usual!" Minho coughed. Frypan grinned.

"That's because it's been fermenting for about three months, now. I kept a bunch of the original and didn't let you guys have it until now. Alcohol takes a while to be really good."

Elizabeth took a sip of her drink and forced herself not to gag. The liquid felt like fire on her throat and before it was fully gone she took another swig. And then another. And another, until her glass was empty and her stomach was warm.

"Yo! Gally! You gonna drink any?" Alby shouted. Gally shook his head and Alby gave him a thumbs up.

"Great, you can keep score!"

Elizabeth turned to Gally and held up her index finger for 'one.' Then she refilled her glass and started on number two. The second was easier to swallow and this time, instead of wanting to gag, she felt a peculiar buzzing sensation in her toes and the tips of her fingers. It was still plenty disgusting, but there was something about the yeasty flavor and fizzy texture that made her suddenly want more. She was surprised by how quickly she reached the bottom of the jar.

"Need some help, miss?" Chris was suddenly beside her, taking the empty glass from her hand and replacing it with one that was so full it spilled over onto her hand. She eyed him warily, but brought the glass to her lips and drank, the brown liquid cooling her lips and burning her chest.

* * *

Gally didn't like this. He didn't like it one bit. He wasn't even keeping score and either nobody noticed, or nobody cared. Probably the former. He kept the fire going in the pit for light, and several times tried to persuade Elizabeth to stop and go to bed. But the shank wouldn't listen, and he had gotten into too many fistfights already to try again.

"Bloody idiot," he muttered under his breath. He looked over at her and frowned. Her cheeks were flushed and she had started bumping into people. Worst of all, instead of looking miserable, her whole face was lit up with delight and her laughter could be heard above all the others. Speaking of the others, quite a few of them had started getting fresh with the girl - flirting with her and purposely bumping into her and other stupid things like that. He couldn't tell which of them were fully drunk or just tipsy, but it was becoming increasingly more annoying.

Ben touched Elizabeth's shoulder and tugged the fabric of her shirt away so he could make contact with her skin. Zart clung to her side like a child so close he practically breathed down her neck. Chris's hand brushed up against her butt. Minho actually tried to kiss her, but his lips hit her eyebrow instead. The only ones who weren't flocked around Elizabeth were the ones who had stopped drinking, or hadn't drank as much as the others.

Gally was utterly disgusted. He'd warned Elizabeth and she had ignored him. Now she was letting a bunch of men feel her up and she probably was too wasted to even realize it. His frown deepened. It was so unlike her. She would most certainly regret it in the morning, and who would she have to ask for details? Him.

Gally did _not_ want that happening. He cared about Elizabeth, but he wasn't her babysitter or anything. He poked a stick at the fire. Obviously she knew what she was doing when she-

 _What the shuck?_

Chris was kissing her. He'd turned his eyes away from her for one second, _one bloody second_! That was it, that was the last straw. There was no way Gally would let a shank like Chris making moves on Elizabeth when he knew full well he was the last person she should choose. Chris was his roommate. In a lot of ways, Gally knew him better than anyone, and he was a _massive_ jerk hiding underneath sappy smiles and smooth talking.

"HELP ME," he shouted at Alby and Frypan, two of the least affected by moonshine.

Gally shoved his way through the band of brutes and grabbed Elizabeth from behind. Alby grabbed Chris and the two of them tore the couple apart. Chris let out a growl of frustration and moved to kiss her again, but Alby punched him in the gut and he dropped to the dirt. The other boys cheered.

"Gally stop doing that!" Elizabeth protested as Gally shoved Zart away from her and Frypan started a fight with Winston as a distraction. Gally said nothing as he dragged her away from the crowd of perverts and didn't loosen his grip when she tugged back and tried to slap his hand off.

 _"Galllly!"_

The farther away from the fire-pit they got, the darker it became. Gally stomped his way to her hut, kicked the door in, and threw her inside. She stumbled inside and her body hit against the wall. He stepped in and shut the door behind him.

"Go to bed," he told her. She smiled at him.

"Gally if you like me, just say so. You don't have to drag me away," she said. She was slurring her words. Gally felt so angry he wanted to strangle her. It took all his willpower to remain standing by the door.

"I SAID GO TO BED, ELIZABETH!"

"Silly. I'm not tired!"

Gally strode forward and grabbed her arm again, leading her to the bed.

"Oww! Gally that hurts!" Gally ignored Elizabeth's whining and he pushed her onto the bed. She sat and looked up at him while he stared back, absolutely furious.

"You're lucky I don't hit girls," he said. Elizabgeth just smiled again and reached out to touch his shoulder. Gally stepped back and her hand fell.

"Do you want to kiss me, too?" she asked. Gally said nothing, just looked at her trying to lie down and cover herself sloppily with the blanket. She was still smiling at him, but her eyes were drooping. He turned around and stomped to the door.

"Gally," she said, "can I tell you a secret?"

Gally clenched his jaw and he roared in frustration.

"SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP!"

"I don't know what to do anymore. I don't want Newt to be sad anymore. I like him. I like him so much I don't know what to do," she whispered. And then, "I think I'm in love with him."

Gally sighed and turned back to stare at her. She was staring back, her eyes shining in the dark.

"I love him," she said again, louder this time. Her voice was surprisingly steady.

"Bloody hell, Elizabeth," Gally finally said. "Don't you think I already know that?"

And then he opened the door and left.

* * *

The world was spinning in slow motion. It was so dark, and yet the edges of her vision were glittery and light. The pillow was soft under her head, and the blanket was warm, but she couldn't fall asleep just yet. There was something she had to do, wasn't there? Elizabeth rolled over and rolled all the way out of bed. She hit the floor and started laughing because it hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt. It was a hurt she deserved.

Crawling around with the blanket still halfway wrapped around her legs, Elizabeth found the crate against the corner and managed to sit up to dig around. Her fingers moved almost mechanically, like they knew exactly what she was looking for. They closed around a crinkle of bubble wrap and started unwrapping the gift, clumsy and slow. Everything was slow and hazy and colored midnight.

"There you are," she said, the vial of green in front of her. She took the lid off and the warm feeling in her chest fluttered into something more queasy and less like a dream. She brought the vial to her lips with shaky hands, tipped her head back, and let the contents drip down. It was warm and tasted like nothing. Her head started to ache and she dropped the empty vial. She leaned back against the cool ground and closed her eyes. There was the smell of dirt and darkness. There was the feeling of goose-bumped flesh and a white labcoat stained with chemicals. Somebody called her name.

And then her head stopped swirling and she entered the blissful, black world of sleep.


	20. S1-Finale: Vial Effect

**Season One Finale** _ **:**_ **Vial Effect**

* * *

 _When Elizabeth opens her eyes the first thing she notices is the sun. Her bed faces the window and rays of light spill through the curtain. Tantalizing. She yawns and stretches, the rough material of her lab coat rubbing against her skin. She forgot to change into pajamas. Again. Her bare feet hit the cool floor, skin on tile, feet aching in protest. She goes to turn on the light but someone opens the door and does it for her._

 _It's Teresa._

 _"Your mom wants to see us," Teresa says, breaking the silence. Elizabeth wants to give a friendly reply, or some sort of acknowledgement that she heard what Teresa said. Anything. But she can't. She can't bring herself to be anything but distant from the girl who stole everything._

 _"I don't understand why we can't be friends," Teresa says as they walk the narrow corridors._ Because, _Elizabeth wants to say,_ you have done nothing but resent me because of who I am. Because you think you are better than me just because you are special enough to be immune to the Flare. _She bites her lips and closes her eyes._

Because he likes you more than he likes me.

 _"Right, then, don't respond like a normal human being. I just remembered that I don't care, anyway." Teresa sounds annoyed. She sounds like everything Elizabeth feels but cannot verbally express. They stop in front of the laboratory and Teresa punches in her numbers to open the doors. The doors slide open and Elizabeth walks in._

 _"Thank you, Teresa," Elizabeth's mother smiles at Teresa in a way she has never smiled at her, "We can begin, now."_

 _Thomas is sitting in his normal chair by the screens, monitoring something. His eyes are impossibly dark and his lips are pursed in concentration. Elizabeth takes a seat next to him and tries to ignore the way his cologne follows him when he swivels his chair and smiles at her. That sweet, almost sad smile. She smiles back and starts to ask something about how his work is going when Teresa sits on his other side and he turns away, the moment lost. As she watches, Thomas's hand touches Teresa's. He moves a little closer and says something only the other girl can hear. They share a joke, a secret look, a shared memory. Something._

 _Elizabeth looks at her own screen and tries to fit everything together; tries to forget about the way he looks at her. But she can't. She remembers the last time Thomas walked with her alone. He told her with uncertain excitement that he and Teresa could successfully communicate with each other in their minds - talking without speaking. She remembers him touching her for the last time, just an awkward pat on the shoulder, when he told her that he wants to get to know Teresa better. That he thinks she is pretty. That he likes her a lot._

 _"Elizabeth, please focus." Ava Paige's voice helps jolt her out of her thoughts, and she sighs, rubbing at her temples._

 _"Who was sent last month? I need you to tell me go over the others with Thomas and Teresa and decide who to send next. Did you remember to take your serum last night?"_

 _Elizabeth nods, and looks over at Thomas. He pretends he doesn't see her. He pretends that Teresa is the only one in the room. Elizabeth stands up._

 _"I took it. I have been taking it and will keep taking it until I die or until we find a preventative drug against the Flare. Last week we sent up Subject A20, Ric who is not guaranteed to pass the Maze Trials based on displayed personality and physique. If you want my opinion on who to send next, I would recommend Subject A11, Frypan, who showed an affinity for cooking. My observation of Group A suggests they are in need of a better diet."_

 _Her mother eyes her with neither approval nor disappointment. "Sit down, Elizabeth," she says, and then turns to walk out. "You have five hours," she says._

 _Elizabeth does not sit down. She looks over at Thomas and Teresa, who are smiling at each other, obviously using their telepathy. She stares at the back of Thomas's head, willing him to turn around. When he finally does, he raises an eyebrow at her and looks slightly annoyed._

 _"Are you going to stand there all day?" The words sound so sarcastic coming out of his beautiful mouth. Something breaks and Elizabeth can't tell the difference between a vial dropping, and what she is pretty sure is the last of her heart._

 _"What happened, Thomas?" she finally says. "What happened to you? We used to be best friends. You used to be so funny and kind." She is almost crying now, her voice raised and slightly hysterical._

 _"I don't-" she doesn't let him continue. She doesn't want to hear any of his excuses._

 _"Do you remember when we laughed for thirty minutes straight about camels and the fact that they carry water in their humps? Do you remember running through the hallway after dinner pretending that we were somewhere else? Somewhere not confined by walls and plagued by a disease outside that threatens to kill us? I remember, Thomas. I remember being your friend."_

 _"We're still friends," Thomas says. Teresa crosses her arms and rolls her eyes._

 _"Can we get started, now?"_

 _Thomas winces, as if Teresa has said something that he doesn't want to agree with but can't help doing so._

 _"Why do you hate me so much?" Elizabeth asks, the question directed at Teresa. The other girl's eyebrows shoot up._

 _"Last time I checked, you were the one with the problem. Thomas can have other friends besides you, you know."_

 _"You are_ not _his friend!"_

 _This time Teresa winces. She does not even look at Elizabeth when she smiles at Thomas and says: "You're right," before leaning forward and kissing him._

 _Elizabeth's blood turns to ice. Thomas pulls away and looks incredibly uncomfortable before standing up and going to stand next to Elizabeth. She can feel the heat from his body. She can smell his cologne again. So close. So far away._

 _"This wasn't supposed to happen," he says. "None of this was supposed to happen."_

 _Elizabeth doesn't even know what he's talking about, anymore. Is it Teresa's kiss? Was it_ hers _? His failure to reciprocate it? Is it his guilt from leaving her behind in the shadows as soon as Teresa showed up? Is it because he thinks Teresa is more his type? More beautiful and strong and..._ immune _?_

 _"Elizabeth..."_

 _Thomas leans in closer and Elizabeth remembers the feeling of his lips on hers in that moment of vulnerability when she could not help herself. The feeling of his hand suddenly in her hair and his heartbeat against her hand. The feeling of him there one minute, and then pushing away from her the next._

 _The knowledge that everything that happened - his distance, her jealousy, their crumbling friendship - was_ all her fault.

 _She pushes past Thomas; pushes past their relationship and the feelings she has for him. She pushes past and stumbles out the door to stand alone in her shame. Someone gathers her into a hug and she realizes it is her mother. For the first time in a long time, she lets herself cry in front of her mother, and allows herself to be hugged._

 _The moment does not last long. Ava Paige gently but firmly pushes her daughter away, just like Thomas did when she kissed him so long ago. Or maybe it wasn't as long ago as she wishes it was._

 _"Elizabeth, you_ cannot _continue to let your emotions rule you like this. You cannot afford to waste time on feeling miserable. You have a duty to do, and it will not help to focus on other things."_

 _Elizabeth closes her eyes and tries to swallow her tears. Ava puts a hand on her shoulder._

 _"I have seen the way you look at him, but you will never have that kind of happiness. Your duty is not love, dear Liz. It will never be love. Because you are different than him. Because you are not immune. Because you are nothing."_

 _Elizabeth shoves her mother's hand away and takes a defensive step back. "_ Nothing? _I am_ nothing? _Mother I am the reason you stared looking for a cure in the first place! I am the reason you use children as a means to an end! I am the reason we have to continue searching, because my blood has not built up any sort of immunity using any of the new medicines you give me to try to change that! I am the reason for everything you stand for!" She wipes at her eyes and the tears are almost forgotten. She stares at her mother. Her mother stares back._

 _It is in this moment that Elizabeth makes a decision. It is in this moment that the course of her future falls, for the first time, into her hands.. It is in this moment that she realizes she will find a way into the Maze and try to start over, even if it means she has to die sooner than she or her mother expected. The serums are not working. They use her blood to test cures, and they have not found any. For this reason, her mother and all the others who work at_ WICKED _continue sending innocent people into the Mazes. Their suffering is all her fault, and the only way she can think to right this wrong is joining them in their captivity._

 _She has thought of it for a while, now. In the dark of night when no one else is awake, she lies in bed planning her escape. Or rather, her imprisonment. It doesn't matter which Maze she goes to, as long as she can get away from everything. As long as they can't use her blood anymore. As long as her mother cannot use her as an excuse. It is a selfish choice, but it is the only choice she has. She can't stay here in this place any longer. She needs to leave. She needs to bring them an antidote. She needs to help them._

 _She needs to forget._

 _It didn't matter anymore that she was in love with a boy who did not feel the same way. It didn't matter anymore that she was "Subject Something-Or-Other" due to her non-immunity and the tests they kept running on her and her blood to see if anything was working. They could find someone else, some other guinea pig to poke and prod, giving them test drugs in hopes that one would make them immune to the Flare. Well, that mattered, because Elizabeth didn't want someone to take her place._ That _mattered, but nothing else did._

 _"I'm sorry, Liz," her mother says. "I'm sorry you feel this way. You are right, of course, in some retrospects, but Thomas and Teresa are crucial to WICKED." She smiles sadly and Elizabeth feels something akin to abandonment._

 _"You are too soft for this world, Liz. Your emotions and feelings always trip you up. You are so much more like your father. You always were. Too soft and too gentle for the cruelty and weight of the world as it is, now." Ava hugs Elizabeth again, which is a surprise. Elizabeth's eyes refill with tears and her mother kisses her forehead, still looking at her with sad eyes. Eyes filled with sorrow and some form of regret._

 _"I wish you were more like me, dear, because just as your father's heart killed him, so it will kill you."Ava lets go and walks away, leaving Elizabeth with nothing more than empty thoughts and lost dreams._

* * *

 _Elizabeth stands alone in the corridor, her feet bare against the metal. She stares at the mirror in front of her, as if she feels the action could somehow change the reflection she sees there. What they were doing was wrong, wasn't it? The world was indeed an unforgiving place, but people were just as cruel._

 _With a trembling hand, she touches the mirror, and then her face. It comes back wet from the tears she didn't know had fallen. With a sudden, steely resolve, she straitens and wipes the remaining tears from her face, clutching the antidote she stole from the lab in her other hand. She puts on her fiercest expression and despite the pounding of her heart inside her ears, she whispers the familiar words: "Wicked is good."_

 _She smiles sadly and nods at herself in the mirror once, before heading to the Deposit area. They are sending up Subject A9, Gally, and Subject B7, Harriet. She already has it figured out: hide in one of the crates that will be sent to one of the Maze. When she successfully sneaks past the guards and workers preparing the supplies, she curls up and prays they won't open the crate and find her. It was empty when she got in, but there were serial numbers written in black ink across the top. Once the top was sealed, they wouldn't notice that it hadn't been filled up like the others._ Shouldn't _notice._

 _Finally, after what feels like hours of waiting, she is lifted up, heart beating fast. She realizes that she won't know which Maze she is being sent up to. Will it be with Subject A9, or Subject B7? She would prefer to be with the girls, but it's too late to try and change her luck. The crate is set down with a_ "thump" _and she hears more scuffles. It is getting harder to breathe. She is scared, now. More scared than she wants to be. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before putting her nose in her shirt and breathing as slowly and as little as she can._

 _She doesn't want to forget. She does. She cannot change her mind, now. The Box is moving down, and sideways, and up. She can almost feel the gas around her. She can feel the person stirring and waking up. It is the boy, Subject A9. Gally. He sounds angry and confused and desperate. She squeezes the antidote in her hands and kicks against the crate, hoping to catch his attention. He doesn't seem to notice. She kicks again and he pauses, but doesn't open the crate. It is getting harder to breathe, so she saves her breath, knowing that the gas is already effecting her. She needs to tell them. She needs to tell them something,_ anything _._

 _Something rolls into her foot. She reaches down and realizes with some sort of twisted relief that it is a pen. She rips the top off and begins to write on her arm, trying to piece together the fragments of her thoughts that are still coherent. It is already getting so hard to remember everything. Why is she doing this, again? Why is she in this hot, dark, cramped place?_

 _The Box jolts to a stop. Elizabeth closes her eyes and tries not to breathe, but before she can stop herself she is taking in deep breaths to make up for the little breaths before. Her mind is fogging. It is clearing. She feels sore and hot and sick. She squeezes the antidote. Antidote for what? Why is she here? What is going on?_

 _She bites her tongue and whispers words in the dark that are starting to make no sense._

 _"This antidote will cure the Griever-sickness. I'm losing my memory. Wicked doesn't know I'm here, but they will. There is a way out. They won't keep you here forever, but you have to get out to pass the test. There's a way out! You have to find it!" She doesn't even know what these words mean, really._

 _"You gonna stand there all day?" someone's muffled voice. She kicks against the side of the crate again, desperately, frantically. She has to get out! He has to listen!_

Let me out!

 _"What...shanks sending us...time?" she can't catch all the words. Is it one person? Two? It's so hard to breathe. Her head hurts. Everything hurts. She kicks again, with everything she has. He has to listen!_ He has to listen? To what?

I have to remember!

 _She kicks again. People are arguing outside. And then there is a voice that is closer than the other's._

 _"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP AND HELP ME, ALREADY!"_

 _He has a thick accent and Elizabeth remembers Subject A5, The Glue. He has dark eyes and soft-looking hair. She doesn't remember where she knows him from. All she remembers is the antidote, the Maze, and how important it is for them to know that there is a way out of this test._

 _The lid pops open and a boy stares down at her with wide eyes. She remembers. What does she remember? Subject A13 Ben._ What does that mean? Is that who this is?

 _"What's wrong? What is in it?" Newt's voice again._

I have to get out!

 _Elizabeth pushes against the crate and it falls over. She feels grass beneath her fingers, against her cheek, on her arm._

 _"A girl?"_

 _"Please you have to listen to me! Please! I brought you a vial of the antidote. It will cure the Griever-sickness." She holds out the vial. Another boy demands an explanation._

 _"I have to be quick, I'm losing my memory, Wicked doesn't know that I slipped in, but they will soon."_

 _She doesn't remember. She doesn't even remember her name. She is just as confused as they are, now._

 _"Listen to me, the Maze..." the angry boy cuts her off._

 _"Yeah, we know it's a Maze, we ain't_ that _dumb," he said, "but it changes every night and it's full of those Grievers you just mentioned a while back."_

 _She doesn't have much time._

 _"There is a way out, and you have to find it. They don't intend to keep you here forever, and they won't wait forever, either. You have to get out so you can pass the test."_

 _The boys start arguing. They start talking to her, but she can't hear them. Her head hurts so much. It feels like her chest is revolting against her._ What is going on! Where am I?

 _"Tell me everything you know!" Someone is shaking her._

 _"I...I can't," her eyes flutter._ My head hurts so badly! Who are these people? Why can't I remember anything?

 _She mumbles apologies as the boy grabs her when she wobbles on her feet, the world spinning so precariously._

 _"I'm sorry, the air - the air is taking my memory. It happens to everyone they send."_ What am I saying?

 _"Is she going to be sick?"_

 _She feels herself falling. She feels herself slipping away. She feels herself descend into darkness. She feels the way her heart screams as she looses the last remaining inklets of her memory._

 _And then she feels nothing._


	21. S2-Ep1: Friend's Reunite

**Season Two** **,** **Episode One** _ **:**_ **Friends Reunite**

* * *

"WHAT THE _BLOODY HELL_ WERE YOU THINKING _,_ NEWT!" Newt woke up with a piercing headache followed by Alby screaming in his face. He groaned and tried to sit up, but was met with a sharp pain in his leg. He looked down and realized where he was. The Med-hut. His leg was wrapped in cloth and held straight with two pieces of wood.

"What?" he managed. Alby glared at him and thrust a cup of water in his direction.

"I won't attempt to understand what's going on in your mind, but please don't ever do something so stupid again. I get that you're angry. We all are. But that isn't a valid reason to try to kill yourself."

Newt realized what he was talking about. The Wall. Despair. Grief. Jumping. He furrowed his brows in understanding and fell back onto his pillow. He brought a hand to his head and closed his eyes.

He saw Elizabeth's face. Her eyes were lit up and she was smiling at him, her hair brushing against his cheek. He opened his eyes again, his heartbeat increasing.

"Where is Elizabeth?" he asked. Alby shot him a look and raised a curious eyebrow.

"Probably fighting a hangover after last night," he said. Newt was surprised. Elizabeth had never drank before.

"She was drinking last night?" he asked. Alby nodded.

"Everybody was. Probably not the wisest choice, considering. After you jumped, she sort of went crazy. I'm actually not surprised, considering how close the two of you are. It's a wonder she didn't throw herself off right along with you. I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't think she would want to live in this place without her Newt."

Newt felt his face flushing, and something inside of his chest clenched. He had never meant to hurt her. He had never meant to hurt any of them. He felt tears behind his eyes and he forced them away.

"I'm sorry," Newt said, his voice cracking. Alby offered him a reassuring smile.

"I know you are," he said, "but you've got some explaining to do. I also expect you to figure out where you'd like to work from now on, because you won't be able to run anymore with that leg."

Newt felt a strange burning sensation inside of him, like he was losing something, some part of him, that had been important. What _had_ he been thinking? Running was one of the only things keeping him stable in this place, and instead of concentrating on finding a way out for all of them, all he could think about was himself. Instead of accepting the way things were, he kept thinking about the way things could be. He remembered long ago, when Elizabeth had told him that that kind of thinking would be his downfall.

She was right. It _had_ been his downfall. And now there was nothing to do but go forward. He'd fallen behind; it was time to move ahead.

* * *

Elizabeth had the worst headache she had ever remembered having. Her whole body was in revolt against her, like she was being tied down with stones. After Alby told her that Newt was alive and going to be fine, she dragged herself to her shower stall, threw up in the pot, and washed it all down with freezing water. The shower helped, and she managed to eat a bit of breakfast before going to find Gally. Whatever had happened last night was being obscured by the effects of the alcohol. But she did remember him leaving her alone in her hut. She also remembered drinking the green vial and dreaming of things she had forgotten. Things she had _wanted_ to forget.

Elizabeth shuddered and opened the door to her hut. After her dreams, she had scoured through the rest of the pictures in the crate, realizing now that they were pictures of her, her mother, and Thomas.

Thomas. She had really liked him back then. He might have been the reason she had entered the Maze in the first place, and now he was nothing to her. When she closed her eyes and thought of his face, she felt nothing. There was nothing. Had she even really gotten to know him? Or was she just looking for something to focus on other than the world around her? Was she simply in love with the _idea_ of him?

She changed into the pants and flowery shirt she had received in her crate, wishing she had a mirror to look at herself in. The shirt wasn't as awful-looking as she'd originally thought. It was one of those outfits that looked better on than off. She felt differently than she had yesterday, and she knew it was because of her memories. She wasn't the same Elizabeth, and yet she was.

Gally was hanging with the other builders. They looked up when she walked up, and she could feel their gazes trailing down her body. It was the first time she'd worn something other than the normal, baggy Glade attire.

"Can I speak with you alone, Gally?" she asked. When Gally didn't respond, Doug nudged him in the ribs. He looked over at her and scowled. Elizabeth half expected him to stomp off in the other direction, but he shoved past her and motioned for her to follow. Elizabeth waved at the other Builders, and then went to catch up with him.

"Geez, Galls, lighten up a little, will you?"

Gally turned to face her, his face tinged pink in annoyance. "Let me guess, you want to know the details of last night, right?"

Suddenly Elizabeth felt uneasy, "Yes."

"You drank, Elizabeth, and things started getting out of control so I escorted you to your hut."

Elizabeth would have laughed at his choice of words if it weren't for his seriousness. The tone of his voice when he mentioned things getting out of control worried her. She had been so upset over Newt she had gotten drunk without even thinking about the consequences.

"Did something bad happen?" Her voice was panicked and breathy. Gally shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed.

"It wasn't as bad as all that, I was just annoyed. You really owe me this time, you know. Chris started kissing you and I was the only one sober enough to supervise."

All the breath was sucked out of Elizabeth. Chris had kissed her? _She had kissed Chris_? Her blood ran cold as she remembered the feeling of his hands on her breast, on her butt, against her shoulders...Thankfully she couldn't remember the experience, but she couldn't say the same thing for him. Out of all the things that could have gone wrong with her decision to drink, that was one of the worst.

"Gally..." she realized she had stopped walking and was clutching a hand to her chest. "Thank you."

To her surprise Gally let out a snort of laughter: "You probably thought it was Newt you were kissing."

" _What!_ "Elizabeth had not been expecting that.

"Don't you remember anything, Elizabeth? _I'm falling in love with Newt, Gally! I love him_!"

Elizabeth was mortified. Gally continued mimicking her voice until she swatted his arm.

"Stop it, Gally! Don't say that!"

"Why? Is it a lie?" Gally looked at her with that awful, bemused grin of his. Elizabeth's heart felt like it was going to explode within her chest and she tried to focus on all the brown freckles on his face.

"People will start to think _you're_ the one in love with him," she stammered. Gally rose an eyebrow.

"That's funny, Elizabeth, but it didn't answer my question." He crossed his arms and stared her down, "Remember, you owe me one from last night. Actually, you owe me about twenty."

"Um..." Elizabeth shifted her weight to her left leg, and then to the right, trying to steady herself. She knew the answer to the question, she just couldn't say it out loud, yet.

"Yo! Elizabeth!" Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief when she heard someone calling her name. She turned from Gally, who was still staring her down, and plastered a smile on her face. It was Snow. He put his hands on his knees to catch his breath, and then smiled back at her.

"Alby wants you in the Med-hut. Newt is up and asking about you."

Newt? Newt was asking about her? Newt wanted to see her? It was a sweet thought, but Elizabeth didn't know what her reaction was supposed to be. After the accident, did he think he could just jump back in like everything was normal?

"Elizabeth, are you okay?" Snow's hands were suddenly on her shoulders, steadying her. He smelled like smoke and musk, nothing at all like Newt, "You're shaking!"

"I'm sorry, I'm okay," Elizabeth straightened and curled her toes to steady herself. "Thanks for telling me, Snow. I'll go see him. Can you let Zart know for me? I told him I was going to see Gally but he'll start getting suspicious if I'm not back before too long."

"Sure thing," Snow said, still giving her a weird look. Gally, on the other hand, looked incredibly satisfied with himself. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Leave it to Gally to feel proud about prying into her life and shaking her up.

Not that she was shaken.

* * *

Snow watched Elizabeth walk away, his eyes gravitating towards her hips. Every time she moved he imagined those hips against his own, the soft velvet of her skin...

"Something wrong, shank?" Gally's voice interrupted Snow from his thoughts. He didn't feel bad about lusting after the only girl in the Glade. She knew the way he felt about her, he had told her already. And besides, he knew for a fact that he wasn't the only Glader who had feelings for her. Maybe none of them showed any interest, but that didn't mean they didn't think about the female Glader. This place was filled with shucking _men_ for klunk's sake.

"What's up with her, she seemed jumpy for some reason?" he asked Gally. The burly boy just shrugged and started walking away. He wasn't much of a talker. In fact, he seemed to avoid talking to people at all costs, sticking to simply staring-or glaring-at them, instead. Snow shrugged his shoulders and started back for the gardens. Zart was probably upset about the lack of a crew on duty, but hey, that was life. He couldn't always be everywhere at once, no matter how much he wanted to or tried to be.

* * *

Alby and Jeff were waiting outside the Medhut when Elizabeth arrived, talking quietly with each other. Alby nodded at her when she walked up.

"How's the hangover?" he asked, grinning. Elizabeth winced and Jeff cocked his head.

"Just take it easy. You can go on in, he's not asleep or anything," said. Elizabeth thanked him but didn't move. Alby pushed himself off the wall and opened the door for her with a shake of his head. Elizabeth looked at Jeff and he gave her a funny sort of smile and then she followed Alby in, feeling awkward.

"You have a visitor, Newt." Alby scratched the back of his head and moved so Elizabeth could see him. He was sitting up in a cot, looking the same as ever, the only difference being his broken leg that lay out of the covers, wrapped in gauze and held in place with a stake. He looked up when Alby came in and his eyes locked on hers.

"Oh, thanks, Alby," Newt said, still looking at Elizabeth. Alby shrugged and went back outside, leaving the two of them in silence.

"Hi," Newt tried. Elizabeth blinked. For a minute she stood frozen in place, just staring at him. And then suddenly she was stumbling forward with tears in her eyes and a sob in her throat until his arms were around her and her face was pressed against his chest, against his beating, fully alive heart. His arms were around her and his breath was in her ear and all around her was the familiar scent of him, his words of comfort where she might have been comforting him, the warmth from his body, the fabric of his shirt. All around her was Newt, the man who was her best friend and closest confident. The man she had longed for ever since she realized her feelings for him had changed.

The man she was in love with.

She closed her eyes against the tears and held him tighter, as tightly as she could so as not to lose him, because _she would not lose him_. She _refused_ to lose him. Something wet fell on the base of her neck and she realized that Newt was crying, too. He was shaking all over and saying "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, Elizabeth, I'm sorry," over and over again. She felt sorry, too, but not nearly as much as she felt relieved. Not nearly as much as she felt a tenderness in her heart that bloomed across her chest and warmed her all the way to her toes.

"I will never leave you again," Newt said against her hair. Elizabeth smiled because she believed him. She smiled because through the tears and pain there was light and love and safety. She smiled because she loved him more than she ever thought it possible to love any one person, and with his words, she knew he loved her, too.


	22. S2-Ep2: Chris Makes a Move

**Season Two** **,** **Episode Two** _ **:**_ **Chris Makes a Move**

* * *

Newt's recovery was slow-going, but he had lots of visitors, and was able to read a few of the books the Box had sent up. His favorite was _Watership Down_ , which he convinced Elizabeth to read. Since their reunion, things had gotten a tad awkward between the two of them. They felt comfortable around each other as they always had, and talked freely about most things, but there was something new that had not been there before. Newt mostly blamed himself.

Aside from his shame of his suicide attempt, his growing feelings towards Elizabeth were almost suffocating. It was hard for him to concentrate on anything when she was near, and whenever they made accidental physical contact, he pulled away because her touch was like fire on his skin. Even when she was not there he felt that she was, and his dreams at night were becoming increasingly scandalous. It was embarrassing. Things were great the way they were and he didn't want to shuck everything up. He considered talking to Alby or Minho about it, but once he thought he had set his mind to saying something, he lost his nerve and backed out.

In his defense, Newt was positive that Elizabeth was attracted to him, too, maybe as much as he was to her. She was always so much brighter when he was around, and she blushed every time they touched; every time he pulled away. He could see it in the way she smiled for him, and the way she wanted to be with him. She wasn't awfully good at flirting, but sometimes she would try peering up at him from beneath her eyelashes or would laugh too hard at one of his attempts at a joke.

Time passed slowly. Damon and Stoy were sent up into the Maze. Damon became the first Slicer, looking after the animals and killing them for food when needed. Stoy was a Slopper, but unlike a normal person he enjoyed doing all the chores nobody else wanted, so it worked out well. Clint and Jeff had a pair of crutches for Newt made so he could finally get up and walk around. He made sure to exercise his leg, the forever reminder of his struggles. "A true reminder of his strength," according to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth. It always came back to her. Something was bothering her lately, but she refused to tell Newt what it was. She was still her same, chirpy self around the Glade, but he knew her better than that. He was talking with Minho and decided to mention it, seeing if he could pry any information his friend might know.

"That's just you going into parental mode, Newt. I'm sure she's fine," Minho rolled his eyes. Newt raised an eyebrow.

"The hell does that mean?" he asked.

"Let me put it this way...if Glade Mother was a job, it would be you."

"I was expressing concern about a fellow Glader, that's all, you greasy shank," Newt said.

"You need to learn to let go, mama hen. Your ducklings can't stay with you, forever. They need to learn how to sort out their own klunk," Minho retorted.

* * *

Chris was bored. He was bored of being a Bricnick, and he was bored of being in the Maze. He didn't like sharing a hut with Gally, and working with Dave was absolutely annoying. The other Bricnick was a stickler for rules, and ever since he'd murdered that kid or whatever, he'd turned into a sop. Chris didn't see how he could have killed anyone in the first place. When you want to kill someone, wasn't it a do-it-and-done sort of thing? Chris didn't have any experience (at least not to his knowledge, anyway), but he imagined that if he really wanted to murder someone that bad he probably wouldn't feel guilty about it afterwards. Obviously Dave had killed the dude for a random reason and couldn't rightly justify his actions.

 _Not that he should really need an excuse,_ Chris thought. He had always thought of the Maze as a kind of survival-of-the-fittest gig. Sticking a bunch of guys in a confined area wasn't exactly an invitation to get friendly. Whoever sent them here was probably doing a sadistic experiment.

A smattering of color against the bland landscape caught his eye. Elizabeth was wearing a blue dress with white sleeves. It went past her knees, but overall showed a lot more leg than he was used to seeing her comfortable with.

Chris admitted to himself that what he did to Elizabeth was wrong. He knew it was, and yet she was so easy to tease. Touching her relieved some of his masculine desire, and he had never crossed a line he thought she couldn't handle. She'd done that herself, when she kissed him in a drunken state. Oh he remembered it, alright, just as much as she did. He knew she did, because she couldn't look him in the eye even more than usual, and actively went out of her way to avoid him, which she hadn't done before.

"I'm gonna head to the klunker," he told Dave. Dave did a jerky thing with his head in response and Chris jogged to catch up with Elizabeth.

* * *

Elizabeth was going back to her hut to change. Wearing a dress was a stupid idea and apt to get her in more trouble that what it was worth. She didn't know what she'd been thinking.

Immediately she felt her face turn a crimson shade of red, because she knew _exactly_ what she had been thinking. She was thinking about what Newt's face would look like when he saw her in a dress. She was thinking about what he would say about it, if he would start stammering nervously and stumbling over his words.

"Hey, there,"

Her heart fluttered. She imagined turning and seeing him there, lanky and adorable, with that messy hair and the crinkles around his eyes. She turned.

It was Chris.

The flutters turned into something more unsettling and dark. Her bones stiffened in defense, as if bracing themselves for impact. She tried to swallow her fear, but when she spoke, her voice cracked anyway.

"What do you want, Chris?" She dreaded the answer. She never should have asked.

"Well you're straight to the point," Chris replied, raising an eyebrow. His lips curled up in to a smile, and if he wasn't such a slime, he might have been charming. He was so attractive it was uncomfortable. It would have been easier if he was less...noticeable.

"I was just thinking about when you kissed me."

 _No. He doesn't remember! He hasn't brought it up in the two months since it happened! He didn't remember! He thinks he's making something up!_

"W-what do you mean?" Elizabeth was suddenly even more aware about the dress she was wearing. Why, oh why did it have to be today?

Chris sidled up until he was walking in step with her, his arm brushing against hers as they moved. Elizabeth tried not to let it bother her, but it did. It really did. Everything about him bothered her. Everything he-

"Don't be coy, I know you remember." His lips were suddenly on her ear. He pulled away and smiled at her. Elizabeth's head was spinning. She suddenly wished that Chris had never been sent up into the Maze. She wished that her mother or whoever was in charge with the immunes had taken one look at him and decided that he wouldn't benefit from the testing. She had never wished anything so mean before, but now she did. Even more so when he took her hand and started swinging it and whistling a tune, as if they were a couple on a pleasant stroll.

She pried her hand out of his and stopped walking. They were in the Deadheads. When had they gotten there? At what point did she stop thinking about where she was going? He had led her here, in this forest where no one would see, and no one would hear. He had done it all on purpose, and suddenly she felt very small. She wished he was not here. Anywhere but here. She almost wished he had died from the Flare.

"You always look so nervous, but I really won't do anything to hurt you, Elizabeth. I'm just having a bit of fun," he was so close.

"Maybe your idea of fun _does_ hurt me," she responded. She turned to walk away from him, but his hand was suddenly on her arm, holding her in a vice-like grip. He pulled her towards him, her feet dragging in the dirt, her hands trying to shove him away.

"Let me go!" she picked up a pile of dirt and flung it into his face. He blinked and grabbed her other arm, his grip tightening.

"That doesn't work. All it does it get dirt in my eyes, which is a shame because now I can't see you. You really are beautiful, Elizabeth,"

"Don't ever say that again!" Elizabeth tried kicking out, but somehow she had been forced up against a tree, her back scraping against the bark. She brought her knee up, but he dodged the blow and bent his head down to her shoulder, and then her collar bone, sniffing at her skin with his olive nose. Elizabeth writhed against him and his head hit against the tree. He growled and pulled the sleeve of her shirt down with an awful "RIP."

"Why? It's a compliment."

"Chris, stop. I'm going to tell Alby and he'll-"

"He'll what? Alby is a prune, just like the rest of them. He won't do anything. Nobody will." Chris licked her shoulder and Elizabeth let out a choked sob, wriggling against him with no luck. He was that much bigger and stronger than her. Where had her strength gone? She had never felt so helpless.

"They won't do anything, because all those shanks have been dying for something like this to happen. We all want the same thing, Elizabeth. Don't you know anything about men?"

Elizabeth closed her eyes and the tears fell from her cheeks to her tattered dress. Her back ached from the bark. Chris's hands were everywhere they shouldn't be, his lips on her neck, his tongue on her shoulder. The world was spinning and starting to melt into a nightmare.

"JUST WHAT THE SHUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" As suddenly as it had started it was over when Chris was dragged away by an angry Alby. Elizabeth stood against the tree, shaking and terrified, her tears blurring her vision.

"WHAT. THE. HELL." That was Newt's voice. She couldn't see him clearly through the fog, but she would know his voice anywhere.

"YOU SHUCKING PERVERT!" Gally.

"TAKE THAT YA STUPID PRICK!" Minho. They were all there. Elizabeth covered her face with her hands. Thank God they were all there. Thank God they had come.

There was the sound of punching, the sound of a slap, somebody hit the ground with a thump and an "oof!" More shouting. More cussing. More fighting.

"Elizabeth," someone's hand was on her arm. She immediately withdrew from the contact, but then leaned into the touch when she realized it was Newt. He looked furious. His face was red and his body trembled with contained rage. She saw the way he shot a murderous glance at Chris, and the way he tugged her hand. She had never seen him so absolutely livid before. Any other time and she might have been amused by the serious look on his face. Even angry, he had her heart.

* * *

Somehow Elizabeth was able to walk all the way to Newt and Alby's hut without falling. Somehow she was able to wait for him to close the door before she ran to him sobbing, shaking, scared. He held her and they sank to the floor in a wet puddle, his arms around her, her tears making their way onto his shirt. It was quite like the way they had been reunited, and yet not. Those tears had been relieved and happy, these were frightened and hurt.

"Please stay with me! Please don't go! Please stay!" she cried over and over. Newt held her close and stroked her back and wiped her tears away when they fell.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here, always. I'm here."

"Stay with me, Newt!"

"I'm staying, Elizabeth. I'm staying."

His accent was so familiar. He smelled so warm. Little by little the tears ceased and she was able to calm herself down and just relish in the safety of Newt. She couldn't keep crying forever, and when the tears stopped flowing, he offered her some water which she drank in one big gulp.

"Did you hurt you?" Newt asked, his voice taking on the steely tone from before. Elizabeth shook her head.

"No," she said.

"Did he..." Newt licked his lips nervously, "Did he-" Elizabeth interrupted, saving him from saying the words.

"He just kissed me. Nothing else."

Newt let out the breath he'd been holding, then reached for her hand. His movements were slow, his touch gentle.

"How did you find us?" she whispered.

"Dave gave us the tip. Chris told him he was going to take a klunk and then he went straight for you, the ..." Newt's voice faded as he listed off a string of insults under his breath.

"Thank you."

"Has this happened before?" Newt asked, after the room had been quiet for a pause. Elizabeth hesitated, and he scowled.

" _Elizabeth_! You were the one who wanted these rules set in place the _most_! Remember the first meeting we had? If you see something, _you say something_! That includes you!" Newt ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"I knew something was bothering you...if I had known about Chris..." his voice trailed off again and he looked at her, blushing. Elizabeth responded with a blush of her own. Their bodies were close. She could feel the heat from his hands and smell the spice of his skin. Being close to Chris had been repulsive. Being close to Newt was igniting.

"Ben and Snow like me," she whispered, "they told me themselves." Why was she whispering? Newt leaned in closer, until their noses brushed against each other.

"I like you, too," he said.

She closed the rest of the distance between them.

His lips were softer than she thought they'd be, and warm. He was surprised at first, but then kissed her back slowly, eyes closed, hands on her waist. Elizabeth's heart was beating so fast it was a wonder she was still alive. His kisses were gentle and tentative, his hands moving from her waist to her arms, and then back again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her fingers in his hair.

Newt groaned and his kisses became suddenly hungrier, more aggressive and insistent. He drew her closer, his mouth exploring, no longer shy. His taste was intoxicating; he tasted like sunshine and wine and everything good and bright in the world. He whispered her name against her mouth and she kissed him harder and pulled him closer.

The moment lasted forever and not long enough. When he finally pulled away they were both gasping for air and shaking with adrenaline and emotion. Elizabeth's lips felt sore, but at the same time not sore enough. She longed for him. She loved him.

"I love you," she said. He blushed and his lips brushed against hers again, teasing. He nuzzled his nose against hers and laughed a bit. His mouth found her cheek, then her nose, and then her lips again, softer this time but no less desperate.

"I love you, too."


	23. S2-Ep3: A Change of Jobs

**Season Two** **,** **Episode Three** _ **:**_ **A Change of Jobs?**

* * *

Alby didn't know who was angrier - Nick, who was screaming at Chris and pasing around room angrily, or Newt who was standing in the corner just glaring at Chris. It was like he was trying to transfer all his anger through laser-beams. Elizabeth was in bed and it was just those three and a couple other guys who had heard what happened and wanted in on deciding Chris's punishment.

It was times like these that Alby wished he was in charge the most. Nick focused too much of his energy on pure emotion which took logic out of the equation. Usually his method of basing things solely on feeling worked fairly well, but this time he was barely making any progress.

"WE HAVE RULES FOR A REASON, SHANK! You come up here with nothin' but the clothes on your back and you're supposed to abide by our rules. You hear that? OUR RULES. Not yours, because you're the stranger here!"

Nick's lecture was starting to get jumbled and made less and less sense as it went on. Alby sighed before pushing off the wall. He looked around the room.

"Does anybody else here have anything to confess? Apparently this isn't the first time this has happened, but Elizabeth was too shy to give me any names," he said. At her name, Newt raised his head and his hand.

"Actually she told me that Ben and Snow confessed feelings to her," he said. Alby raised an eyebrow. Ironically Snow was present at the meeting, but Ben was not. He looked over at the boy in question and Snow shrugged.

"Yeah, I told her I was into her first week I got here. But she didn't have the same feelings so I left her alone. I never touched her," Snow said. From his corner Newt's eyes narrowed at Snow and Alby swallowed a chuckle. Jealous much? From the scene he'd barged in on earlier it was safe to assume the reason why Elizabeth said no to Snow. He'd opened the door to his hut a few hours ago to find Newt and Elizabeth kissing on the floor using his bed for support. He didn't have to ask if it was what Elizabeth wanted - her flushed face and dreamy eyes said it all. She definitely didn't like it when Chris had been coming on to her, but Newt? Hell, she was probably the one to make the first move on that one.

Nick frowned at Snow, but didn't make any other comments. Instead, he turned his back to Chris and stood there seething. Alby decided it was his turn to butt in and act as stand-in. He walked to the middle of the room and continued scanning the room. Gally, P.F., Dalton, Minho, Snow, Newt, Nick. None of them flinched under his gaze, which he took to mean none of them had made a move on Elizabeth, either.

"Anyone have any ideas about what we can do to prevent this from happening again?" Alby asked.

"Yeah, put the shank in the Slammer for a week!" P.F. suggested.

"Or a month," Dalton grumbled, nudging P.F.'s shoulder. Alby was glad that the two friends were getting along again. It made things seem more...right.

"I suggest we have another meeting about the rules," Minho said. Nick shook his head at that one.

"That doesn't work, we have a meeting every month for newbies to talk about it. Everybody's heard it loads of times," he pointed out.

"Can we throw him in the Maze for a while?" Gally asked, earning him a few surprised looks.

"Gally we aren't gonna kill him," Newt said.

"I think he deserves it," was Gally's retort.

A squabble broke out about whether sending Chris into the Maze was a viable idea for a punishment. Snow took Gally's side, reasoning that the Runners could just go and retrieve him at the end of the day. The rest of them decided against the idea, arguing that it was too risky and wasn't the answer to the solution. All the while Chris, who was tied up to a chair in the center of the room, was listening with mild amusement.

"You guys are a bunch of saps," he said at one point, "I broke a fundamental rule. If you want to kill me, go ahead and try."

"Shut up, you!" Newt growled. "Just because we all aren't sadistic bastards like you doesn't make us saps."

Alby stroked his chin in thought. Letting Chris loose into the Maze was out - they'd have to wait until nightfall to make him stay there, anyway, and nobody survived a night out in the Maze. It defeated the purpose, and he agreed with Newt - they needed to maintain some sense of morality in this place.

"What if we sent Elizabeth out instead?" he asked, breaking the silence. The boys turned to look at him.

"What the shuck you mean, Alby?" Minho asked. Alby could see Newt was already starting to turn into the overprotective boyfriend. He groaned internally. Though he was glad the two of them had finally - _at last thank God_ \- gotten together, he wasn't looking forward to seeing this new side of his friend.

"As a Runner, I mean. It would get her out of the Glade during the day, and we've all seen her go jogging in the evenings. If that's not a characteristic of a potential Runner, I don't know what is."

"Aw, man, this is like some awful cliche!" P.F. groaned. "A girl is sent up in the Box, she gets considered as Runners before other shanks do...I don't know it doesn't sound right to me."

"What do you know about cliches, P.F.?" Snow asked.

"Think about it," Alby continued, ignoring them. "She likes to run, we've all seen that. We don't want Chris or anyone else creeping on her during the day; Running means she won't be here to get hit on."

"She also like gardening," Newt said, crossing his arms.

"I like it," Gally said. Ably glanced at him and he shrugged. "Elizabeth isn't stupid and she can take care of herself. If being in the Glade is too much of a distraction for shanks like Chris it makes sense to get her out of it."

Newt looked like he was feeling uncomfortable about the idea, "What if she doesn't want to be a Runner?" he asked.

"Fine," Alby said, getting annoyed, "We'll put Chris in the slammer for a few days and ask Elizabeth about Running. If she doesn't want to do it, then fine. It's just a suggestion."

"It's settled then," Nick said, slapping his hands together. "Chris goes to the Slammer, and Elizabeth goes to the Maze."

* * *

Minho was given the task of asking Elizabeth about becoming a Runner. He approached her the next morning, when she was already at the gardens talking to - who else? - Newt. The two of them were laughing about something and Newt reached out and brushed his hand against her arm.

"Elizabeth," he nodded as he walked up. She greeted him with a friendly smile, completely oblivious to why he might have been looking for her.

"I'd like to speak with you in private," Minho said, giving Newt a look. His friend sobered up at that, rested one arm against the other looking perturbed. Minho ignored him.

"Sure, Minho, what's up?" Elizabeth dusted her hands against her pants. For a girl who had been aggressively cornered and threatened, she seemed pretty happy. When they were far enough away from Newt, Minho cleared his throat.

"I was wondering if you'd consider becoming a Runner," he said. Elizabeth blinked. Her hair had grown well past her shoulders in the time she'd been there, and it lifted gently in the breeze.

"A Runner? Why would you ask me this?"

"Honestly? Alby thought it would protect you from perverts during the day. We've got Chris in the Slammer for the time being, but it might be a good idea to make yourself scarce around the Glade during the day. That way things are less likely to happen." Minho suddenly remembered a conversation with Elizabeth long ago when they'd asked each other if they were worried that something might happen. Something like Chris trying to force himself on her.

"I mean, on one hand I understand, but don't you think there'd be more of a chance of anything happening at night rather than in broad daylight?"

"Chris took you in the daytime," he pointed out.

"True, but -"

Minho cut her off: "Look, if you don't want to, just say it. I don't have a lot of time to talk about this."

Elizabeth frowned. She looked back at Newt and Minho waited as she tried to telepathically ask him what she should do. He knew just as well as she did that this wasn't his call.

"Do you think I could do it?" she finally asked, looking back at him, "Be a Runner, I mean?"

Minho studied her, starting with the gaze of her blue eyes, and stopping at the shoes on her feet. It wasn't an ogling stare to check out the contours of her body and appraise hotness levels, it was a determination of bodily ability. Elizabeth flinched under his gaze, but remained silent as he thought it over.

She could run, certainly, he had seen her running in the evening after dinner when the others sometimes played around with Frypan's drink. She wasn't the fastest by any means, but she had endurance, and sometimes that counted for more than speed. He wasn't concerned about her keeping up, he knew she would be able to figure out a way to stay with them, all the new Runners had to. Her arms were a bit scrawny, but they could work on that with a little bit of exercise. He'd seen her stand up against a Griever when Newt was in danger, so he could check bravery off the list. Jumping...he hadn't seen her jump, but she was lithe, and as a lighter weight than the rest of them, was probably pretty good at it.

"You qualify," he told her, making sure to look her dead in the eye. "If you want to be a Runner, you could do it."

Elizabeth bit her lip and Minho heaved a giant sigh. "I really don't have all day. If you want to join us, grab a water bottle and a Griever-sword. You could try it today and go back to gardening tomorrow."

She was looking at Newt, again. Was that all she ever did? Minho was growing impatient. Right as he was deciding to just leave her and go, she turned back to him and nodded once, her disposition taking on a new, determined nerve.

"I'll do it," she said, "I'll run."

* * *

Dalton was excited about Running today. Elizabeth would be joining them for the first time, and they hadn't had a newbie in a while. It was always fun to share the job with a beginner, and watch them soak in the thrill of it. Training also meant an easier day for the rest of them, with generally slower running and more talking than usual. Nick was running with them today, too, probably to help Elizabeth through it. Ever since Newt's accident, there was only the three of them - Minho, P.F. and himself. Nick didn't like running like the rest of them did, and preferred joining with the Builders or Track-hoes.

"You ready?" he asked Elizabeth. Newbies were never quite sure if they were ready or not. She was wearing the traditional Runner-bag, with a water bottle and snack inside. She was carrying a Griever-sword, but was holding it at an awkward angle.

"Here, let me help with that," he said, and grabbed the handle to steady the weapon, "It's pretty heavy at first, you have to kind of use your whole weight to hold it up firmly."

"Thanks, Dalton," Elizabeth gave him a smile. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and he was glad that his hair was short enough that he never had to do that. It must be a pain having hair that long all the time.

"Alright, let's move out!" Minho shouted. Sheesh. Already barking orders at them. He acknowledged Elizabeth and instructed her to stay in the middle of the group as much as she could.

"That way we can all take turns giving you advice and explaining the ropes," he explained.

"The _ropes_ ," P.F. whispered and nudged Dalton in the side, "Show her the ol' _ropes_ , boys!" Dalton snickered and got into formation. Elizabeth was right in front of him. She didn't look nervous, but he could feel the waves of fear waving off of her.

"Just relax," P.F. told her. "Newt did this all the time, remember? You'll come back in one piece,"

Elizabeth giggled a bit at that, and some of the stress eased off. P.F. flashed a proud smile at Dalton and Dalton rolled his eyes. Show-off.

They jogged to the entrance of the Maze and Dalton could feel somebody's eyes on them. When he looked to the side of the Wall, Newt was there. He waved to Elizabeth and she waved back. Dalton felt sad that his friend couldn't run with them anymore, but Elizabeth was his friend too, and he was sure she would do just as well. They entered the Maze and left Newt and the rest of the Glade behind them.

* * *

 ***Special Author's Note***

 **I know it took forever for Newt and Elizabeth to get together, but I like it when the relationship is developed before going straight for romance. Anyway, I know this is getting long, but I hope it's still interesting. It'll probably get longer because I sort of worked it out in my head to make it 2 seasons long (it's like a tv show in my head). I also wanted to let you know that I posted a poll on my profile about which OC is your favorite. I like Elizabeth, of course, but I'm also really enjoying Dalton and P.F. What about you?**

 **Thank you for all your kind comments! I squeal each time I get a new one! May the force be with you, padawans.**


	24. S2-Ep4: A Budding Romance

**Season Two** **,** **Episode Four: A Budding Romance**

* * *

Elizabeth was a good addition to the group of Runners. Even though it had been Alby's suggestion, it was Minho's ultimate decision to let her join them. And he was proud of his choice. She had good reflexes and was a fast learner. She didn't ask too m any unnecessary questions, and caught on to the way they mapped almost right away. Her only problem was her speed. During her first few days in the Maze, they ran slower and she was able to keep up with them. When they started at their normal pace again, however, she started to fall behind. She was fairly good at staying with them, but was always lagging towards the back, and by the time they were finished, her face was red and she couldn't speak for lack of breath.

He gave her credit for being able to keep up with them at all, and she never complained which was more than he could say for some of the other shanks, who would sometimes whine just for the heck of it. Unfortunately for Minho, Newt had become Elizabeth's personal bodyguard, and watched over her like a hawk. Every time Elizabeth came back exhausted, he would pull Minho aside and start questioning him about everything that had happened. It was ironic since he bothered Elizabeth at least half as much. As far as Minho could tell, their relationship was exactly the same as it had always been. Except now Newt was a bit more...possessive or something.

Newt had never exactly told any of them outright that he and Elizabeth were an official couple, but he alluded to it several times, and was more open about staring at her during meals or while he was working in the gardens. He'd taken over Elizabeth's spot as a Track-hoe, and ended up fitting in well there. Anyway, it was obvious that their relationship had stepped up a notch. Minho was happy for them - they made one hell of a good couple - and he appreciated the fact that they hadn't shown any public displays of affection. It said a lot about their relationship, that they cared deeply enough for one another that they could be comfortable going about their days as usual and didn't have to be touching each other constantly or whatever for romantic satisfaction.

Still, though, Minho wasn't the only Glader who was curious about their physical relationship. It made a good topic to chat about when neither of them were around.

* * *

"I miss gardening with you guys," Elizabeth said to Zart and Snow at dinner. She was in her usual place next to Newt, who was talking with Clint. Gally was on her other side, and every once in a while he would accidentally jab her in the ribs from the sheer force he was using to eat his food. It was annoying, but it didn't distract her nearly as much as Newt's leg pressed up against her own, did. She was hyper-aware of his warmth, and every time he shifted, his leg would brush up against hers, or his arm would bump into hers.

"Yeah, Newt's good, but he ain't you," Zart said. Elizabeth flushed with pleasure.

"That's so nice of you to say!" she exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" Newt asked, picking up on the conversation. "You're just embarrassed to tell her that I'm better at it than she was."

"Oh?" Snow raised an eyebrow, "Weren't you the one who started pulling up all the herbs because you thought they were weeds?"

"Yes," Zart added, "And weren't you the one who who took "these carrots look completely dried up!" too literally and then proceeded to drown them?"

"You said they were thirsty," Newt mumbled, his ears turning pink. Zart and Snow looked at each other and Elizabeth laughed.

"Doph yugh like runnipt?" Gally asked. His mouth was full of food.

"Runnipt?" Elizabeth grinned and Gally glared at her before swallowing his food.

"I _said_ , do you like Running?"

Elizabeh shrugged and decided to stick with a vague, "It's fine," instead of going into detail. In all honesty the answer was probably closer to what she felt about it, anyway. She didn't hate it, but she didn't exactly enjoy it, either. Everything was just so fast-paced, and none of the others really talked that much. Back when she was a Track-hoe, she'd get to talk to Zart and the others. Sure she probably talked their ears off, but they'd never gotten angry or annoyed about it. That she knew, of course.

"You wanna join us for a a wrestling match, later?" Snow asked, "It's Louis against Frypan, and I think the Greenie talked about going against Damon."

"Nah, I'll pass," Elizabeth said. Snow shrugged and went back to his food. She'd seen wrestling matches before, and wasn't really thrilled about them like everyone else was. The only upside to it was getting to see Newt and some of the more attractive guys without shirts on. Other than that, what was the point? She preferred verbal activities more than brutal physical contact.

"So what, you and Newt gonna have a private wrestling match of your own?" Ben asked sarcastically. He rolled his eyes when his joke was met with laughter. Elizabeth felt awkward. He still harbored feelings for her, and had been embarrassed when Alby and Newt had confronted him about it. His ego had been bruised, and it created an unnecessary jealous tension.

Newt choked on his food and Clint gave him a whack on the back. Elizabeth averted her eyes and shook her head.

" _No_ , I don't like wrestling, that's all. I think it's stupid," she said.

"Stupid?" Gally snorted, "It's a tough sport for you to stomach, I guess."

"Excuse me? What are you trying to imply, exactly?" Elizabeth huffed.

"Nothing! He's implying nothing!" P.F. cried, and nudged Gally in the gut. Gally grunted, but didn't say anything more.

"I'll have you know that I run probably five miles at least in the Maze everyday, and before that I've climbed trees, stood up against a Griever, and worked in the sun every single day unless I was ill. Speaking of which, Mr. "Never-Had-A-Period," I have to deal with blood every month and it hurts like the devil. Yup, I said _blood_. Sorry, but I'm ten times stronger than you just for having to go through _that_." Elizabeth was glaring Gally down, and for the first time since she'd known him, he looked sheepish.

"EEEW!" somebody shouted, "WHAT'S SHE TALKING ABOUT AT DINNER?"

"I'M GONNA BARF!"

"WHAT THE SHUCK? ELIZABETH!"

"NOT THAT WORD! NOT THAT BLOODY - I MEAN... _ARRGH_!"

Elizabeth crossed her arms as the boys fell apart around her. Some clutched their stomachs dramatically. Dalton slid off his chair and made a big deal about pretending to have fainted. There were shouts and laughter and whoops all around the table. Underneath her pursed lips, Elizabeth was smiling. It might have been chaos, but it was a good kind of chaos.

After dinner, Elizabeth headed for the showers. The water felt cool on her warm skin, and she lingered under its path for longer than she'd intended to. Afterwards, she dressed for bed and headed towards her hut. She was wondering about how the wrestling match was getting on when someone wrapped their hands around her waist.

She shrieked and twisted in their grip, only to find herself face-to-face with Newt. It looked like he'd taken a shower recently too - his hair was still dripping in parts onto his shoulders, falling underneath the curve of his chin and sliding down his neck to a place she couldn't see.

"Newt? What in the world-" Elizabeth was cut off when he kissed the place where her ear met with her jaw. His breath sent warm shivers down her back. She pulled away, cheeks red.

"Can you-?" once again Newt came in closer, his hands a gentle weight on her hips. He smelled like smoke and spice; a delicious combination of life and adventure. He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

"Sorry," he murmured. Elizabeth smiled and brushed her nose against his before pulling away, this time managing to break from his grip. While she didn't dislike his proximity, there was something very nerve-wracking about it.

"I'm not sorry," she said, running a hand through her hair. She hadn't brushed it, so it must have looked like a tangled, soggy mess. Her nose wrinkled and she shook her head.

"If you want to apologize go ahead," she continued, "but it isn't as if you were going against my will or anything."

Newt grinned and reached for her hand. It was bigger than hers, and warm and pleasantly dry rather than cold and clammy. He was still displaying a certain amount of wariness and his movements were tentative, as if he were still nervous about how to act around her now that things had changed. It was awkward, but it was also incredibly sweet and endearing to know he was trying his best to do things right. For all she knew, this was his first relationship - hers too.

The strong bond between them was both exciting and exhilarating. It made her anxious and twitterpated all at once. The fact that they felt the same way about each other made it even more thrilling. It was hard enough to spend a day apart from Newt in the Maze, being this close to him was horrifying in a way. She wanted to grab him by the collar and kiss him, she wanted him to hold her and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. She wanted to be closer, as close as she could be without passing boundaries. When she turned to look at him, he was staring up at the sky, his eyelashes illuminated under the light of the moon.

"What are you thinking about?" she whispered. He squeezed her hand and smiled at her.

"I was just thinking how even the stars in the sky can't compare to the wonder of you."

Her mouth almost dropped open from the sheer cheesiness of it. "That was so sappy!" she squealed, butterflies fluttering in her stomach nevertheless. A warmth spread from her chest and all the way through her body. She wished she could think of something just as beautiful to tell him, but all she could think of was how touched she was.

"I thought you'd like it," he replied, his smile widening with hers.

"How long did you work on that one?" she asked, teasing, but still experiencing incredible fluffy feelings.

"Not very long. It just came to me as I was stargazing just now."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. She very much doubted that, but eh, she could let it slide. Anyway, he'd gotten the reaction he'd wanted.

Or had he?

They reached her hut, and Elizabeth let go of his hand to open the door. Once inside, she gestured for him to come in. He did so and closed the door behind him, taking in the scattered clothes and pictures on the floor.

"It's a lot messier than it was last time," he commented, "Or did you have time to clean before?"

Elizabeth threw a hairband at him and started brushing through her hair. Newt watched her for a few seconds, and then reached down to pick up one of the photographs. It was the one of Thomas and her standing next to each other at their work station. His arm was around her, and her hand was out to the side making a peace sign. They were both smiling like idiots.

"Was this in the crate they sent you?"

Elizabeth nearly dropped her hairbrush. She'd forgotten that she hadn't told anyone what was in it, yet.

"One of the things," she said. "That's me and my friend Thomas."

Something clicked in Newt's jaw as he studied the photograph. Elizabeth watched him and decided that he needed to know the truth about Thomas.

"I had a crush on him when we were working together," she said. Newt looked up at her, more surprised than upset.

"You remember?" he asked. Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders and bit her lip, blushing.

"There was also a vial of green liquid that I drank the night I was drunk and it returned some of my memories," she said.

"What?" Newt looked hurt, "And you didn't tell me?"

"I was drunk, Newt, and you weren't around to listen then," Elizabeth responded, finishing with her hair. It fell straight to her shoulders, still wet from her shower. Newt was frowning at the picture in his hand again, and didn't say anything for a while. Finally he sighed and looked up at her with brown eyes. Her heart fluttered.

"I had a sister named Lizzie," he whispered. Elizabeth blinked and the fluttering turned into nervous anticipation.

"You..."she didn't want to say it out loud. "You think we're related?" She didn't stop to wonder how he'd remembered her. She didn't remember any mention of Newt in her memories, but it could have been a detail she hadn't been given in her memory-dream. She let out the breath she was holding when Newt shook his head.

"No," he said, and then put the picture down. He walked towards her and gave her a crooked smile, "She was younger than you. I don't know why, but I've always remembered her."

Elizabeth closed her eyes when he brushed a piece of wet hair off of her cheek, his fingers grazing her cheek in a feather light touch.

"I'm not in love with Thomas," she said, her breath hoarse.

"I know," Newt's mouth found the corner of her mouth. His hands were on her shoulders, the weight of them both reassuring and a pleasant reminder of his presence. He was so close to her, when she moved forward her chest hit his and she could feel the damp of his own hair on her wrists.

"I was never in love with Thomas," it was getting harder to breath. Newt kissed the tip of her nose, the bridge between her eyebrows, her temple.

"It's okay, Elizabeth," he said, his voice was low and husky, "I probably liked someone, too. It doesn't matter anymore." He kissed her and the back of Elizabeth's knees hit her cot and something heavy dropped off to the floor. It was a long time before either of them bothered to pick it up.


	25. S2-Ep5: Elizabeth Gives a Tour

**Season Two** **,** **Episode Five: Elizabeth Gives a Tour**

* * *

When the Box came up the next time, Dalton asked if anyone wanted to take over tour-duty. Usually he was the one who showed the Greenies around and went over the rules with them, but he'd been doing it for so long it was getting old. Alby had done it a couple of times, and Zart did it once, but there seemed to be some sort of unspoken rule that Dalton was the best at it, so everyone always assumed he would be the one to do it. It was surprising to them when he asked for someone to take over. P.F. was the only one not surprised, but he didn't offer to do it.

Stoy was willing, but he was the last Greenie and that wouldn't work. Louis and Clint volunteered, but Louis had only lived in the Glade for three months, and after a couple of days Clint changed his mind. Chris heard about it and offered to do it, but he was still in the Slammer, and nobody wanted him to do it. Somebody suggested that Nick do it, since he was the leader, but Nick wasn't interested in the affairs of Greenies.

"I got too much other stuff to do," he said as an excuse.

Elizabeth wasn't sure about it at first, but after a few days had passed, she confronted Dalton herself.

"If no one else wants to, I'll help the Greenie this time," she said. Dalton raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, if you want to go ahead, Elizabeth," he said. Secretly he'd been rooting for Newt to step up, but Elizabeth was a good choice, too. People had a hard time feeling uncomfortable around her. The only problem she might have would be if the Greenie started hitting on her or something. He doubted something like that would happen on their first day, but you never knew.

"Somebody can help you, if you want," he suggested, still trying to hire Newt. Elizabeth smiled at him like she knew exactly what was going through his head. She patted his arm.

"Thanks, Dalton, but I think it'll be fine. Newt would be too distracted if he came with us." Sure enough, she knew he'd been thinking about the blonde Glader. Dalton blushed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Honestly I wasn't expecting you to volunteer," he said, "I guess it just goes right up Newt's alley."

Elizabeth smiled again, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Actually I asked him about it, but he told me he'd prefer not to, at least this time," she said. Dalton shrugged.

"That's fine. Do you need to go over anything?"

Elizabeth shook her head: "No, thank you, Dalton." She flounced away and Dalton shrugged his shoulders again, though she couldn't see. He figured if she got stuck she would either ask somebody for help of figure it out on her own. She was smart like that.

* * *

Elizabeth was excited about meeting the new Greenie. She was the first one at the Box, and she couldn't keep still. Out of all of the boys, she was the one who looked forward to meeting somebody new the most. Sure, she wished that they didn't have to be sent up here, but it was always fun to meet a new friend, here in this place that was so segregated from the rest of the world. In the back of her mind, she always crossed her fingers for another girl to be sent up, but it never happened. While she didn't exactly mind, she was had been longing for another female presence in the Glade. She loved the guys and valued their friendship, but she desperately needed a girlfriend to talk to and hang out with.

Nick, Minho, and Alby helped open the Box, and the Gladers stared down to see who the Greenie was. An extremely tall kid with large teeth and wide, green eyes hidden behind thick glasses stared up at them. His light hair was cropped in a buzz-cut, and his skin was as pale as a ghost. Elizabeth felt bad for him when he cringed and started shaking when Nick jumped down and held his hand out. The kid was at least foot taller than the Glade leader.

"Welcome to the Glade, Greenie," Nick said. "What's your name?"

"Uh-um..." the boy licked his lips and looked up at the others, still cowering in fear.

"It's okay, we aren't gonna hurt you," Alby said, jumping down beside Nick. The boy jumped and pushed his glasses up.

"Um, I-I'm Tyn," he said. Several of the Gladers snickered at the name. His shoulders sagged slightly, and touched the side of his glasses to straighten them. He flinched at the laughter and Elizabeth frowned at her Glademates. She crossed her arms and considered jumping down with Nick and Alby, but before she could, they climbed up with Tyn behind them.

"Good luck with that one, Elizabeth," Newt whispered, his breath caressing the tip of her ear and the edge of her jaw. "He's a skittish shank."

Elizabeth brushed her fingertips across Newt's arm in response, and then walked forwards. She could feel his gaze on her as she approached the new kid. When Tyn saw her his brow furrowed in confusion and he stopped shaking so hard. He was a good two feet taller than her; she had to crane her neck up to talk to him when she was in front of him.

"Hi, Tyn. My name is Elizabeth and I'll be showing you around the Glade, today. It's okay, there's nothing to really be afraid of. We all lost our memories when we came here, too."

"She sounds like a bloody tour-guide," Winston whispered loudly. Gally snorted and Dalton swatted his arm.

"Give her a chance," he said.

Elizabeth ignored them. Tyn looked at her, less afraid now that there didn't seem to be any apparent danger on the horizon.

"O-okay," he said, his voice betraying his nerves. Elizabeth smiled at him and pointed to Alby and Nick.

"Those guys who helped you up are Nick and Alby," she said, "And the wiseguy over yonder is Winston." As she went down the line introducing everyone, Elizabeth was struck with a sudden sense of deja-vu. She remembered waking up in the empty cot with Alby looking down at her, Nick and Newt standing in the room asking her questions about the writings on her arm. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet here she was, feeling like a Greenie all over again. She looked over at Gally and met his eyes. He nodded at her, and the action was somehow encouraging. The difference between Tyn and her was that she hadn't been alone during her first month as a new Glader. Gally had been Greenie right along with her.

After they had all been properly introduced, Elizabeth took him to the Homestead. She figured she'd show him where he'd be sleeping first. She led him to the hut nearest to the well, where Stoy had been living alone up until now.

"This is where you'll be living," she said, "Your hut-mate is Stoy, and he's really nice. They sent him up last month, and since Damon replaced Doug as Nick's roommate he's been alone this month."

Tyn frowned and Elizabeth mistook his wariness for uncertainty. "Don't worry," she said, "Stoy's pretty mellow. I think you'll get alone, fine."

"That's..." Tyn bit his lip and fiddled with his glasses again. Elizabeth briefly wondered if they were the right prescription. She hoped they were, for his sake. "That's not what I was worried about," he mumbled.

"Then what is it?" she asked.

"Everyone...I just don't understand how I got here? Everyone talks about 'them' sending me up, but who is that? I don't understand!"

"It's okay," Elizabeth said, her voice gentle. "We're all in the same boat as you. Nobody really knows who sent us up here and for what purpose. Every one of us who was sent up has lost all of their memories of their old life except for their name. It's the one thing whoever sent us here let us keep."

She was lying about knowing who had sent them here, of course, but it was far too complicated to get into, now. Besides, she technically didn't know the _specific_ people who completed the procedure and sent them up in the Box. She _technically_ didn't remember her life before the Glade. The things she _did_ know were sketchy and minimal, a couple days or instances at most.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so n-nervous about all of this," Tyn said, flinching when Elizabeth giggled.

"Tyn you're completely fine! Honestly, you're taking this a lot better than a lot of Greenies have in the past."

"Greenies?"

"It's what we call the newest member of the Glade. Don't be surprised if the guys start calling you that," Elizabeth winked at him. She wanted to get him to relax, if only a little, but he remained fidgety and jumpy throughout her whole tour. She explained the rules of the Glade, and then went over the different jobs he could join. It was late noon when she started passing through the pig pens and makeshift kitchen. Tyn didn't seem to be very interested in any jobs, despite her attempts at describing them in detail and adding dramatic flair and appeal. The problem was, he didn't seem altogether disinterested in any of them, either. Except for Damon's job of Slicer. He almost looked sick when she started going into detail about his job.

"You might be good at being a Bricnick," she suggested, "they're pretty much like Builders except not as...involved, I guess. You met Dave, and he really enjoys doing that with Chris." There was a prick in her stomach when she thought of Chris.

"Who's Chris again? S-sorry, I don't remember!" Tyn asked, his eyes wide. Elizabeth shook her head.

"It's okay! You don't remember him because you never met him. He's in the Slammer right now for misbehavior."

"S-slammer?" What in the world possessed WICKED to send them this poor, nervous boy into the Maze? He might have been immune, but there was no way he'd be able to stand his own in a fight against the Grievers. Thinking this, Elizabeth's heart ached in shame and sympathy. She closed her eyes, wishing she hadn't thought that. He was just shy and confused. It was only his first day, why should she be signing him off as dead? It was highly unfair of her.

"The Slammer is our prison. We usually only put people in there who have broken the rules," she explained. Tyn seemed satisfied at that answer. He walked a little ahead of her, into the gardens.

Elizabeth had saved the gardens for last for two reasons: one, because it was her last hope for Tyn. If he didn't like the idea of being a Track-hoe he'd have to join Stoy as a slopper. And two, because she wanted to see Newt and walk to dinner with him. He heart fluttered as soon as she walked up and saw the back of him. He crouching down with a spade and was digging in the dirt with it.

"These are the Track-hoes," she told Tyn, "they garden and harvest the produce and herbs." She was expecting Newt to turn at her voice, but he didn't look up from whatever he was doing. From the angle she was at, she could see the side of his face that was all squished up in concentration. If it wasn't such a dramatic thing to do Elizabeth might have fainted at the sight, it was so cute.

"Who came up with the names of these jobs?" Tyn asked. Elizabeth blinked slowly.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.

"Yo, Elizabeth!" Zart grabbed her shoulder and whipped her around. She gasped in surprise but even then Newt remained focused. Good heavens, could the man get any more adorable?

"I haven't seen you around for a while," Zart said, completely oblivious to the fact he had nearly scared her to death. He paused and looked over at Tyn and frowned. "You showing the Greenie around?"

"Yeah," she said, turning to look at the newbie. He was watching Snow watering spinach and she was relieved to see some interest on his face. Zart started talking to her about the harvest and the new gardening tools the Box had sent up with Tyn. It was nice to talk to him outside of dinner. Ever since joining the Runners she hadn't really gotten the chance to spend time with anyone besides them and Newt of course. She missed Zart and Snow, and she missed Gally and his no-nonsense.

"Um, Elizabeth?" Tyn was wringing his hands together when he approached. She shared a look with Zart, and the Track-hoe raised an eyebrow at him.

"So you'll be joining us, then, Greenie?" he asked before Elizabeth could respond to her name. Tyn looked at him for several seconds before nodding and pushing his glasses up.

"Yes, if that's okay," he said. Zart watched him and tilted his head.

"You want to start now, or tomorrow?" he asked. Tyn shrugged and Eizabeth could practically feel the agitation flowing through him.

"It's up to you. We're almost done for the day, anyway." Zart moved away and Tyn made a sort of gurgle noise in his throat. Elizabeth hated the amount of pity she felt towards this boy, who was so nervous and unsure. She truly hoped he would relax and fit in well with the Track-hoes. From her experience, they were some of the more laid-back men in the Glade, Newt especially. Speaking of Newt, he had finally finished whatever it was he'd been doing, and was busy brushing dirt off his pants. When he felt her gaze on him, he looked up and smiled. There was a streak of dirt across his left cheek and nose.

"Ho, there, Elizabeth, Greenie!" he said cheerfully. Elizabeth beamed at him. She loved seeing him happy.

"Y-yes," Tyn stammered, "Ho!" he brought his hand up in an awkward wave and Newt snorted.

"So Tyn, dinner will be ready soon, so it looks like our tour is over. Unless you had any questions for me?" Elizabeth said. Tyn thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

"I can't think of anything," he said. He looked at Elizabeth, and then back at Newt, and then took a step closer to her. He was so tall he had to lean down to whisper in her ear. She tried to help by craning her neck towards him but it didn't help the awkwardness. Newt watched them with a bemused expression on his face.

"I'm allergic to onions."

 _What?_ Elizabeth couldn't help herself. She burst into laughter and stepped away from him. Out of everything he could have asked, he said _that_? Poor innocent! She couldn't look at him because she knew if she did she might start crying from the sheer hilarity of it. Newt asked her what was so funny, his own laughter cutting through his words. Tyn had a sheepish look on his face, but by the time Zart and Snow wanted to know what was up there was a smile on his face.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Elizabeth gasped out when she was able to talk again. She was leaning on Snow's shoulder, with Newt on her other side pressing Tyn for answers. When Tyn finally told them what it was he said, the Track-hoes erupted in their own bout of laughter.

"I don't know where the shuck you've come from, Greenie, but I like you. Welcome to the Track-hoes!" Zart said, wiping tears from his eyes.


	26. S2-Ep6: Tyn's Secret

**Season Two** **, Episode Six: Tyn's Secret**

* * *

"I don't like him," Gally said. "They shouldn't have sent him up." He could say the same thing about Chris. He'd been let out of the Slammer and was as annoying as always. He wasn't talking about his hut-mate at the moment, however - he was talking about Tyn.

Elizabeth's face did that scrunchy-thing it always did when she was thinking or confused about something.

"I think he's sweet. I know he's not like you, Gals, but give him a chance. You might actually have something in common!"

Gally snorted. Something in common with that four-eyed, skinny, slinthead? _No way._

"Of course you like him, Elizabeth. You like _everyone_ ," Gally said sarcastically. He rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the well.

"Not true," Elizabeth said. So quick to defend herself. He raised an eyebrow when she crossed her arms.

"Chris doesn't count," he said.

"What do you mean? Of course he counts!"

"Yeah, but _nobody_ likes Chris."

"I don't think-" Elizabeth started weakly.

He cut her off: "Trust me, Elizabeth. _**Nobody**_. After what that shank did to you, everybody's done a good job of actively avoiding him. He doesn't have any friends." Gally was telling her the truth. The Gladers often talked about how awful he was whenever Elizabeth wasn't around. They were all upset about what he'd almost done to her.

"That's...kind of sad," Elizabeth mumbled. Gally laughed at that.

"Between you and me, Elizabeth, I don't think he cares. He doesn't give a klunk about finding friends because in his mind he doesn't need any."

"Well it's not right," Elizabeth said with an air of stubbornness, "Everybody needs friends."

Gally snorted. She was so predictable. He ran a hand through his hair and looked around. There wasn't anyone else around at the moment. It was too early in the morning for that; the sun hadn't even started peeking from the trees, yet. He and Elizabeth were hanging out by the well, which they hadn't done for a long time. Usually he wasn't such an early riser, but for some reason he couldn't sleep with the thought of Chris snoring beside him. He didn't sleep well, and from the looks of Elizabeth, she hadn't either. There were slight bags under her eyes, and she carried herself in a way that reminded him of a slug. He didn't want to pry, but she wasn't normally awake at this hour, either.

He was glad to provide her with some company - Newt was most likely still sound asleep in his hut and wouldn't be waking up any time soon. Since he'd been a Runner, Gally had assumed that he was a morning person, but ever since switching to Track-hoe, he barely woke up in time for breakfast. From the looks of it, he'd never really been a morning person. Elizabeth liked the mornings and tended to head to bed earlier than some of the others, Newt included. Often Newt would come back to the fire-pit after walking Elizabeth to her hut and spending some time with her there. Presumably she was asleep when he did this.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Elizabeth asked him, jolting him from his thoughts.

Gally shrugged: "It's funny how you and Newt have so much in common and at the same time are so different. That's what I was thinking."

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose again, but she was smiling good-naturedly. "You were thinking about me and Newt? That _is_ funny."

"Whatever," Gally mumbled. He distracted himself from embarrassment by pulling on the rope that led to the bucket down in the well. It had a good amount of water in it; some shank had forgotten to draw it out after letting it down.

"Aww, Gally, are you jealous?"

"Shut up, I'm not jealous."

"Oh, that's right, you like brunettes," she tossed her head to the side and her blonde hair fell over her shoulder. It was stick straight and hung a little past her chest. Gally remembered when it barely reached her chin and was all choppy and uneven. He pulled the bucket out of the well and set it on the ground before wiping his hands on his pants.

"That's right, I like brunettes," he said. He looked over at her and she looked uncertain and almost...nervous. He sighed and clenched his fists together to keep from pinning her down with a glare.

"Relax, I don't have a crush on you or anything," he said. She visibly relaxed. "I think I had a girlfriend before the Maze."

She blinked and he grinned. She hadn't been expecting him to say that, had she? "Yeah, every once-in-a-while I can see a girl with dark hair," he said. "I've had a couple dreams with her in it and it feels different than a dream..." _why am I telling her all of this?_ "It feels like a memory."

"I remember things too," Elizabeth said. He smiled. That's why he was telling her all of this - she always took him seriously and never teased him when he was serious.

"Yeah, I guess we all do," he said. He looked away from her and was greeted with a cool breeze on his face. "Sometimes I can smell her perfume." He said this low enough so she wouldn't hear him, but she heard him anyway.

"Do you remember her name?"

"Nah," Gally said, and then turned away, signaling the end of the discussion. He didn't want to think about his life outside the Glade right now. It was too early, and it was stupid conversation topic, anyway. He was bored with talking, and starting to feel irritable.

Thankfully, Elizabeth took the hint and started rambling off about Running and guessing what breakfast would be and other, girly things like that. Gally half-listened, knowing that she wasn't really expecting him to respond, anyway. That's what he liked about Elizabeth: she was always able to open up to him and never judged him when he couldn't open up back.

* * *

Elizabeth was totally exhausted by the time the Runners went into the Maze. She thought she had said good morning to Newt, but she honestly didn't have any coherent thoughts after hanging out with Gally at the well, which was hours ago. Before she followed after Dalton into the Maze, Newt had kissed her and it was the only thing giving her energy. All she could think about now was the feel of his lips against hers and the warmth from his hand on her back and on her shoulder. Her lips quirked up when she also recalled the way Dalton, Minho, and P.F. just stood there watching their heated exchange with bemused expressions on their faces.

"You okay back there, Elizabeth?" Minho asked, slowing down to run beside her. She flashed him a grin.

"I'm a little winded, but I'll live," she said.

"Already? That must have been some kiss," Dalton added, wiggling an eyebrow. Elizabeth wiggled her eyebrow back.

"Oh, it was. I can still taste his tongue..." she sighed dreamily and pretended to swoon.

"OKAY! I did NOT need to know that!" P.F. said. He was a little ahead of her, but she could still hear him making fake retching noises.

" _Damn_ ," Dalton said. Minho didn't say anything, but he looked like he was somewhere between pleased and creeped out.

By midday Elizabeth wasn't sure she'd be able to keep going. She was ready to collapse and sleep right where she was, in the Maze or not. They stopped for lunch and she chewed her sandwich slowly. Dalton and P.F. talked among themselves, but Minho was also quiet. She smiled at him and he frowned.

"Did you not sleep last night or something?" he asked.

Elizabeth shrugged and swallowed her bite. "I had a few nightmares. Nothing too serious, but I was up before the sun was."

"We can take you back for the day," Minho said. Elizabeth shook her head.

"No, but I might go myself. I know the way back."

"That's not happening. At least take one of us with you."

"But then that person would have to find his way back to you alone? Relax, Minho. We haven't seen any Grievers in days. I'll be fine. I know the way back, and I have a Griever-sword. If anything happens it would be on me, not you, and I'm pretty sure you'd be able to find me, because I'll be screaming my head off if a Griever started attacking."

Minho looked uncertain, "Newt would kill me if anything happened to you," he said.

"Um, excuse me, but Newt doesn't own me. Tell him it was my decision, because it is, and then tell him how stubborn I was about it. I'm a big girl; I can make my own decisions."

"We can all go," Dalton said. He and P.F. were paying attention to her conversation with Minho, now. P.F. nodded in-between chomps.

"If that's what you really want," she huffed. As much as she was thankful for their concern, she was also a bit bristled by the way they practically suffocated her with their over-protective actions. Logically, it was safer for them to go in at least pairs whenever in the Maze, but she was tired and using her emotions to dictate her thoughts rather than logic. Why did they all have to be such stupid gentlemen all the time?

It was settled - after their brief stop, they started off again, this time in the direction of home. _Not home, the Glade_ , Elizabeth reminded herself. But where was home, if not the Glade? That was where all her friends were. That was where her room was, where she slept and bathed and lived. That was where Newt and Gally and Zart and Frypan and Snow were. Where was home, if not in the place where everyone she loved was?

The Gladers were confused when the Runners came back early, but Elizabeth didn't stay for their questions. She made sure to say goodbye (and tried very hard to keep the anger out of her voice) and started walking to her hut. She passed Gally and the other builders working on a hut. Louis waved cheerfully at her, and she smiled back. She passed the gardens where Zart and Snow were on break and laughing together about something or other and Newt was stretched out on the grass taking a little snooze. Tyn was hanging back by himself a little ways from the others. He didn't look nervous from what she could tell, but he was watching them intently.

She changed her route and half-walked, half-stumbled over to him. Gads, she was tired. How was she even moving, right now? On brain power alone, no doubt.

"You okay, Greenie?" she asked as she walked up. Tyn jumped, but wasn't as visibly terified as he was on other days.

"O-oh, I'm fine," he said, sounding sheepish. "Are you done Running already?"

"Yeah, I need a nap," she answered. He nodded and looked away from her. She followed his gaze to Newt, who was sitting up and smiling at them. She blushed and pretended to look at the grass.

"You like him, don't you?" Tyn's voice was soft. Elizabeth started. She blinked at him, trying to find the right words. She forgot that he was new so might not have realized, though she'd assumed it had been obvious.

"Um...Tyn, Newt and I...we're sort of together."

"Together?" she was surprised to see Tyn's face fall. He looked at her behind those thick glasses, making her feel uncomfortable.

"I-I mean we haven't really made it official, I guess, but...yeah," she looked back at Newt and the fuzzy feeling returned to her face. "Yeah," she whispered. Tyn watched her.

"He's your boyfriend?"

Elizabeth didn't know how to respond. Technically he was her boyfriend, but they'd never called themselves "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" before. Obviously they were a couple, but for some reason "boyfriend" sounded too...immature or something. That was something kids in high school called their significant other, and neither Elizabeth nor Newt were in high school. Their relationship felt so much more real than that.

Still, it was better than calling themselves "lovers" or "sweethearts" so she went with it.

"Yes. Is there something wrong with that, or something?" she asked, wondering what the big deal was.

Tyn just shrugged and laughed. "Nothing is wrong with that. Newt is great. He's pretty hot."

"Oh, he is!" Elizabeth relaxed, and then jumped. "Wait a minute, _what_?" Of course she thought Newt was hot, but for Tyn to mention it...

"I said he's hot," Tyn said again. This time, he didn't look nervous at all. Instead, he seemed more relaxed than she'd ever seen him. "There, I said it. Now you know."

Now she knew? Now she knew...what, exactly? Elizabeth looked back at Newt, who was now with Zart and Snow. She went back and forth between Tyn and the Track-hoes, and suddenly it clicked.

"You - oh. _Ohh_!" She felt so stupid for not guessing it sooner. Embarrassed, too. Not for him, but for herself. It wasn't like her to be so non-observant. She didn't know what to think of it exactly - since he'd thrown it out there so bluntly - but it didn't change her opinion of Tyn at all. If anything, it gave him more substance.

"You don't have to worry, though. I don't like Newt or anything, I barely know him," Tyn went on. Elizabeth relaxed again, feeling much better about things now that everything had been cleared up. She felt like she could talk to Tyn more normally now that she knew he'd been attracted to her...boyfriend (and probably still was.) She wondered what he thought about Chris. Chris was repugnant in all ways except appearance.

"That makes a lot of sense, actually," she commented, "Newt has this way about him that sucks everyone in. I can't remember a time when I wasn't drawn to him."

"He is charming, for sure," Tyn answered.

"I know! I don't know how he does it!" she gushed, suddenly feeling excited. "And his eyes and that smile...everything about him is wonderful!"

As if he sensed she was talking about him, Newt, sought her face again. He was laughing about something either Zart or Snow had said, but when his eyes met hers he smiled for her, and for her only. She loved him. She loved him _so much._ Even exhausted, her feelings for Newt made her glow and light up like a sparkly sparkle.

"You're lucky," Tyn said. "He seems to really like you, too. I hope I get to have that, one day."

Something opened in Elizabeth's chest and bubbled to the surface in laughter. She loved being able to talk like this! She loved the feeling of sharing her thoughts about Newt with someone who understood. Tyn looked surprised at her sudden outburst, but he chuckled along with her. She wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug, but he was so tall she felt like an ant when he hugged her back.

"Thanks, Tyn," she said, and let him go. "I'm glad you told me. We should talk more sometime, but I really _do_ need to take a nap. I feel like I'm going to pass out any minute!"

"Um, sure?" Tyn still looked confused, but he was happy when he let her go and his shoulders straightened. He wasn't so tense as before, and Elizabeth was glad to see him relax. With his glasses and a goofy grin she'd never seen on him before; his hair was a little curly at the ends, and his shirt was a bit too small on him. He was cute in his own, adorably nerdy way: with his glasses and a goofy grin she'd never seen on him before. His hair was a little curly at the ends and his shirt was a bit too small on him. When she waved goodbye and went to her hut, she closed her eyes and thanked whatever being had sent him into the Maze.

* * *

 ***Special Author's Note***

 **I know it's been slow-going, and I'm sorry for that, because it won't be getting faster any time soon. I have a new job at the airport and it is both mentally and physically exhausting so I don't always feel up to writing. "Like a sparkly sparkle" is actually a quote from the movie,** _ **Date Night**_ **. I thought it fit the situation. :)**

 **Thank you so much for all the reads, follows, favorites, and comments! I'll work hard on getting the next chapter up sooner rather than later!**


	27. S2-Ep7: The Tests

**Season Two** **,** **Episode Seven: The Tests**

* * *

Nick was having a bad day. For some reason everything that could go wrong was going wrong, and he was having trouble coping with his frustration. Tyn was a huge source of his frustrations, but another month went by and Leo replaced him as Greenie. Leo was the polar opposite of Tyn, with huge strapping muscles, broad shoulders, and the beginnings of a mustache. He joined Damon as a slicer and Nick was secretly disappointed he hadn't chosen a more important job.

Today, however, the problem wasn't with any of the Gladers. Today's problems lay within the inner workings of the Glade.

First it was the showers. Snow had complained about a faulty shower at breakfast that morning and Nick had shrugged it off. Then Stoy and Clint came forward with similar stories. He probably would have shrugged it off again if Gally hadn't cornered him after they did and threatened to crush his hand if he didn't try to figure out a way to solve the problem.

"I'm not a shucking plumber," Nick had said.

"Not my problem. You're leader, remember?" Gally had so kindly reminded him. Nick loved being the leader, he really did, but it was things like this that made his skin itch. It turned out the showers were spewing out nothing but ice cold water. He could deal with a cold shower, but this water felt like it had just come from a melting glacier. It wasn't just one shower, either. It was all seven stalls, including the one in Elizabeth's bathroom-hut (he checked hers with permission, of course).

Then Zart approached him in the early afternoon telling him that the crops had been "destroyed!" Nick was forced to follow the boy to the gardens where he found that, true to his word, Zart was right about the crops. More than half of the vegetables were either dead or in a severe withered state. Some even had flies buzzing around them as if they'd been gone for quite some time.

"The hell you been doing to these things?" Nick asked, "You do understand that this is our food, right?"

"It wasn't me!" Zart protested. "I'm just as shocked as you are. They were completely fine yesterday!"

The food situation only got worse. Damon reported that three pigs and five chickens had died overnight. They simply dropped dead where they stood and had started rotting and giving off a foul scent. It made the surviving animals sick, and as a result no eggs had been laid and the goat's milk was sour.

"I think they had food poisoning," Leo said.

" _Food pois_ \- you don't know what you're talking about, Greenie!" Nick shouted, coming to the end of his rope. Did they expect him to know the answers to everything? The only thing he could think of was the stupid people who had sent them up here. Perhaps they were getting tired of keeping so many of them and wanted to kill a few off through starvation and poor hygiene.

He talked to Frypan and they agreed to cut back on mealtime.

"I won't make any extra servings tonight," Frypan said.

"You get the wax paper you wanted?" Nick asked him, proud that he'd remembered something about someone. He struggled in that area.

Frypan shook his head, "Nah," he said, "I always request it but they never send it up."

Nick sighed and shook his head with a frown. He was angry and frustrated, but not with the Gladers. No, he was angry with the people who had sent them here, and he was angry that he had been one of the lucky few to be kidnapped. And he was angry with himself for failing to see the changes that had been happening. They would ration food. They would have another meeting. They would decide what to do about whatever was happening, and they would get through this.

They had to.

* * *

Snow wasn't an expert on plants by any means, but he'd be blind not to see that theirs were suffering from some sort of unseen plight. None of the seeds they'd planted last month had sprouted, and they had lost so many vegetables...He'd pulled up the dead plants along with Newt and Tyn while Zart worked on the overgrowth of weeds on the remaining healthy greens. The sun was high in the sky, descending to dusk when he finished cleaning up the last one. Pulling out the roots had been tougher than he'd originally thought. Plants were quite deceiving in the way their slender stalks hid much thicker, deeper roots. Even in death, they were hard to dig out and break completely.

"The Runners should be back by now," Zart said, coming to stand beside him and Newt. Newt wiped sweat from his brow.

"Yeah," he said. Snow caught Tyn watching Newt from behind his thick glasses.

"Wonder if anything weird happened to them," Snow thought out loud. He thought he saw Newt flinch, though he remained silent.

"I guess we'll find out," Zart said, shrugging. The four Track-hoes made their way to the Homestead where the others were gathering. They were speaking together in hushed, serious tones about the dead crops and livestock, and the freezing showers. Snow saw Nick leaning casually against a tree with a mildly perturbed look on his face. Alby was next to him mouthing words, but their leader didn't seem to be listening. After a moment, however, he nodded to Alby and his gaze flickered to the Maze opening. Snow realized Minho and Elizabeth weren't around.

"Are the Runners back yet?" Snow heard Newt ask Doug. Doug shook his head.

"Not yet."

Time inched by slowly. Some boys proposed solutions to the food problem, others offered to help warm up some water in a couple of the well barrels so they could at least have something to scrub down with. Snow had never seen any of them look so somber before, and meanwhile Newt was getting more worried with every minute that passed. Snow decided to do the friendly-guy thing and shoot out some peppy words to take his mind off the missing Runners.

"I guess this explains my wacky dream last night," he said. Will, who was in the same circle as him raised an eyebrow.

"Weird dream?" he asked. Snow chuckled.

"Yeah. Some slinthead kept cutting me in line and my teeth all fell out."

"I've had that dream before, too," Will said.

Snow was surprised: "Oh, really? Were we dream-fasting together or something?" It probably had some sort of strange explanation, like they were both afraid of _always being bested by the person in front of them in life_. Or something along those lines.

"No, I mean about my teeth falling out," Will explained with an embarrassed blush. Snow snorted and looked at Newt, but Newt wasn't paying attention. There was a crease in his brow and he had his arms crossed. Poor dude. Snow was worried about his friends too, but there wasn't anything to be done about it.

* * *

 _Breathe_ , he told himself. _Just breathe._

They were okay. Everything was fine. They had probably just lost track of time.

She was okay.

His palms felt sweaty against his arms and he released them and wiped them against his trousers. His throat was too dry but he knew if he drank anything now he would just throw it back up.

He knew that he cared about her, of course. But he hadn't fully realized to what extreme. He had told her he loved her, and she, him, but they hadn't mentioned love since that night. Maybe it was because he was too afraid to; too afraid to completely bear his heart to her. Doing so would mean his heart didn't belong to him anymore. Though, he surmised, it hadn't fully belonged to him for quite some time.

And now she wasn't here. She wasn't here for him to tell her!

"Newt," someone placed a warm hand on his shoulder. It was a comforting notion, and Newt opened his eyes to give them a smile of gratitude.

It was Gally.

"I know how you feel," the freckle-faced boy said. Newt blinked, but found he wasn't as surprised at Gally's words as he expected to be.

"I love her, too," Gally said.

 _That_ surprised him. Newt jerked away and tried to swallow the sudden burst of jealousy. It left an acid taste in his mouth and made his stomach hurt. Gally's frown of concern turned into one of disgust.

"Not _romantically_ , shank!" his lips curled up. "I meant as a sister!" He closed his mouth abruptly, as if he hadn't completely wanted to share that particular information. Unfortunately, once it was out, it was out.

"Looks like you've got some rather _brotherly_ competition, Newt!" Snow said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Big brother Gally is so protective of his family!" Will giggled. Gally scowled and a couple of the others shuffled their way into the conversation.

"Aww, did I miss seeing Gally's soft side?" Frypan groaned. "Do it again, Gally, please?"

"He called Elizabeth his "little sister,'" Snow said.

"SHUT UP!" Gally's face was turning red. "And I never called her 'little!'"

"That's incredibly..." Clint struggled to find the right words, "non-jacked of him."

"Shuckin' sweet," Alby agreed.

Newt almost laughed, Gally's face was so beet red and the veins were popping out at his neck. Without warning, he charged at the boy nearest to him, which just so happened to be himself. He grunted at the impact, and fell backwards, his arse hitting the ground. The force of it sent painful sparks of pain up his back through his tailbone. The other boys yelled and he brought his hand to his head before leaping to his feet.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded. Gally took a step back, but didn't back down. In fact, he looked even more fired up than before. Newt staggered forward, the pain in his rump still fresh. His limp didn't help. Gally dodged his first blow with a muscular arm, but Newt took him by surprised by bending down to avoid another hit, and his fist connected with Gally's chest with a satisfying _THWACK_.

Gally took a few steps back. He spat on the ground and then ripped his shirt off. Newt pulled his own sweaty shirt off and tossed it aside.

"Are you ready for this?" Newt was surprised to hear wariness in Gally's voice. How annoying. This slinthead was going down.

"Ladies first," he said.

Gally's eyes narrowed. "Says the one everybody calls "Glade Mother,'" he said.

Newt was already running at Gally head on, but just as they collided in a mesh of sweat and dirt, Tyn pointed towards the distance and shouted: "They're back!"

* * *

Elizabeth was tired and sore, and completely filthy. All she wanted to do was take a hot shower and fall into bed. She and Dalton each had one of Minho's arms around them for support, and P.F. was carrying all of his supplies. Minho was conscious and babbling, which was a good thing, but she wanted his leg checked as soon as possible. They'd had a run-in with a Griever for the first time in weeks, and they'd gotten away with him, but Minho had acted irrationally and paid the price for it.

The good thing was he hadn't been stung. That much she was certain. There was a deep gash in his leg that was actively leaking blood, and they'd managed to bandage it with parts of their clothing torn off. The only thing now was his loss of blood. She couldn't recall exactly when it happened, but it was at least an hour prior. She'd kept him talking for his safety, but what had started out as merely slurry words of sarcasm and wittiness had turned into incoherent nonsense.

P.F. and Dalton had gotten tired of his babbling pretty early on. She'd responded to it at first, but after a while she too had gone quiet and left him talking to himself like a crazy person. It wasn't as if she was bothered about talking with him, but...she didn't know how to respond to it. She feared that he'd hit his head on his way down too, which was not helping his cause.

"I've always liked this time of day," Minho was saying. "What do you say to this time, Dalton?"

"Yup," Dalton mumbled.

Elizabeth shifted his arm on his shoulder to a more comfortable position and looked around for somebody else to take over.

"Where is everybody?" she asked. P.F. nodded ahead of them.

"Somebody got into a fight," he said. Elizabeth looked to where he was gesturing and groaned. Thankfully they had put the match on hold to greet them.

"Here comes Newt," Minho said. "He's a good mate."

Newt was shirtless and covered in dirt and sweat. Gally was beside him in a similar state. Elizabeth realized they had been the ones fighting. Whatever he'd been doing must not have been too bad, considering how fast he'd ran over to them. Alby reached them first, and relieved her of Minho's weight.

"What the bloody hell happened!?" Newt demanded. His eyes met Elizabeth's in horror and he was immediately at her side, running his hands down her arms and patting at her shoulders and head. She tried to ignore the heat that came from his touch, and averted her eyes away from his bare chest.

"Are you hurt? What happened? What is this blood coming from?" New's voice was a tarried whisper as he continued searching for scrapes and wounds. Elizabeth didn't know what he was talking to at first, but then remembered that Minho's blood had sprayed up at her. She must be covered in his blood. She placed a tentative hand against his chest.

"It's okay, Newt. I'm okay. It's Minho's blood." Her voice squeaked at the end and she pushed him away and drew her hand back. He frowned slightly, and then pulled her in for a quick hug.

"Explain yourselves!" Alby shouted.

"We met a Griever today," P.F. said. "It took Elizabeth by surprise but Minho here jumped in front of her so she wasn't hurt."

Newt released Elizabeth and went over to Minho and grabbed him by the shoulder. Minho grunted a "your welcome," and managed a messy side-hug.

"Was he stung?" Nick asked. The Runners shook their heads.

"It wasn't using its stinger," Dalton said.

"Was there only one?"

"Only one that attacked us. We spotted a few earlier but left them without being seen."

"Something's wrong," Nick said after Clint and Jeff had taken Minho away. His tone held a bitter note to it. "First they kill our crops, then they kill our animals. Now they're increasing the amount of Grievers in the Maze? What is going on?"

"It's simple," Chris spoke up. "We're in their game and they're playing us."

"This isn't a game, _Chris_ ," Newt said. Elizabeth heard it, she heard the slight inflection of his name Gally had told her everybody used with Chris.

"Who says it's not? _You_?" Chris asked, letting out a dry laugh. "We've been at their mercy since day one and you don't think they just sit there and watch? No, this is entertainment. This is their way of reminding us who's in charge."

"It's a test," Elizabeth found herself saying. Chris met her gaze and she turned away from him. "Remember, everything is a test?"

"Nobody told me that," Leo frowned.

"That's because nobody knows for sure, Greenie." Ben sighed heavily. "That's just Elizabeth trying to make us feel better."

"Why would the test us?" Dave said at the same time.

"I'm not trying to make anyone feel better," Elizabeth said, glaring at Ben. "I'm guessing just as much as you are."

That wasn't altogether true. There was the note on her arm when she'd first arrived about being tested. And then there was the notebook with the list of immunes and non-immunes in it. And that dream she'd had...she wasn't sure what the tests were for, exactly, but she was almost one hundred percent sure that's what this was.

"Than can I be so bold as to ask what the goal of this test is?" Snow asked.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked.

"I mean, what are they trying to test us for? Is it to weed out the weak ones? Is it something like that, or is it more like they're just seeing what we're going to do next?"

It was a good idea, one that Elizabeth hadn't thought of. It was possible that WICKED was simply watching their behavior and wanted to know how they handled things like this. But then, why hadn't they done it sooner? And if it was to weed out the weak ones, then why hadn't they just released a bunch of Grievers into the Maze to slaughter them? Neither conclusion was completely satisfactory, but it did seem more likely to be about studying their behavior rather than killing them off outright.

Elizabeth was so deep in thought she didn't participate in the rest of the conversation. She did, however, notice when Jeff came back with a report on Minho.

"We've got him on the bed, and he's resting fine. The cut wasn't actually that deep," he said. "I think he was acting more dramatically than necessary."

Elizabeth was mildly irked at that information, and she wondered how much of Minho's seemingly delirious blabber was actually faked. If it was, that boy had a weird sense of humor.

"What's that?" Alby asked. Jeff had a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

"Oh, erm...we passed the Box on our way there and it looks like somebody sent this note up," he said.

"WHAT?" Alby shouted. "HOW DID WE MISS THE BOX COMING UP?"

Jeff shrugged. "I don't know, but it doesn't make much sense," he said.

"Well what's it say?" Nick demanded furiously.

"It's for Elizabeth."

 _Me?_ Elizabeth felt Newt's hand grab hers.

"Why does Elizabeth keep getting special things?" somebody whispered as Jeff walked over and handed her the note.

"Well?" Nick place his hands on his hips and the rest of them all looked on expectantly. Elizabeth unfolded the note, took a deep breath, and read:

 _Elizabeth,_

 _I'm sorry._

 _-Thomas_

Newt squeezed her hand and leaned in closer to her. She turned the paper over and froze. The men started chatting around her.

"Eh? What the klunk does _that_ mean?"

"Who's Thomas?"

"That's the stupidest letter I've ever heard of."

"Are we supposed to know what this means?"

"Never-mind, I'm glad people don't send me things I don't need."

Elizabeth felt numb. She couldn't tell who was talking, but she could feel Newt's heartbeat against her shoulder. She quickly crumpled the piece of paper in her hand.

"Is something wrong?" Newt shifted and bumped into her. She shook her head and smiled up at him.

"It's fine. It's just Thomas apologizing for what happened between us," she said. Newt didn't look convinced.

"Was there something else written on the back?" he asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, nothing else."

He didn't press her any further, but she knew he was still suspicious. He had good reason to be, since she wasn't telling the truth. She clenched the paper in her hand and vowed to burn it as soon as possible. Her head was still spinning with the words.

 _I will miss you when you're gone._

She knew what it meant. She knew as soon as she read it. Deep down she had known it all along. She was, after all, the only one in the Maze who wasn't supposed to be there. Another time it might not have affected her quite so much, but it broke her heart because she knew it would break his, too.

 _I will miss you when I'm gone._

She wasn't going to survive the tests.


	28. S2-Ep8: The Heat Is On

**Season Two** **, Episode Eight: The Heat Is On**

* * *

Newt met Elizabeth at her hut after she cleaned up, still a bit concerned, still shirtless. Elizabeth didn't know what was worse: being in a room with a slightly hurt Newt from knowing he'd been lied to, or being in a room with a half-naked, sweaty Newt. While he wasn't one of the bigger, more broad-chested men, his chest was still _very_ distracting. His skin was tan, and his smooth, lean muscles were outlined with the remaining sweat and mud from his fight. She could smell his familiar spice-and-earth scent, sweaty and all man. He was scrawny. He was tall. He was awkward.

He was hers.

"Are you okay?" he asked. The hurt look on his face had gotten worse. Without realizing it, she'd backed herself in a corner to be as far away from him as possible. Her hands were bunched in her shirt; she was shaking with anxiety. She sighed and forced herself to calm down.

"Sorry, I'm fine," she said. Lying again. The stress from the day and the letter from Thomas prayed on her mind. Her heart was beating too fast, and yet not fast enough, and her throat was so dry. She closed her eyes and turned away from Newt, feeling sick. After a beat, she felt his hand on her shoulder. She leaned back into his touch and he placed his lips on her ear.

"You're safe, now," he said. She shivered when his breath tickled her ear but didn't respond.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, still pressed up against her back, the heat of his shoulders on hers. She suddenly turned in his embrace and stood up and pressed her lips to his. He responded with pleasant surprise, and wrapped one arm around her waist, the other coming up behind her neck to keep her close. His mouth was hot and insistent, moving from her lips, to her neck, to her cheeks, and back to her lips again. She whispered his name and he whispered hers back, desperate.

They moved together, legs tangling, stumbling, falling sideways onto the bed. They pulled away, breathless, still clinging to one another. Newt closed his eyes and nuzzled his his nose against hers affectionately.

"I love you," he said. His voice was hoarse, "I love you, and I'm in love with you." He kissed the side of her nose, "Always."

Elizabeth sighed, moaning slightly. She gripped his shoulders and moved closer until her lips brushed against the space between his neck and the slope of his shoulders. She remembered the note from Thomas, but it was no longer on her person.

"I love you, too," she said. " _I love you so much_." She ran her fingers across his bare chest and he shivered against her touch and draped an arm over her waist to pull her closer. His hands traveled across her shirt, finding the buttons he never dared to touch before. She moved instinctively closer and didn't push his hands away. The corner of her shirt fell, and he moved to kiss the edge of her collarbone, his tongue lightly brushing against her skin. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. Burning. Desperate. Greedy. He whispered endearments against her skin and she returned the gesture, her lips against his chest, his neck, his arm.

 _I love you._

 _I love you._

 _I love you always._

* * *

Tyn was feeling anxious. It wasn't abnormal, he felt anxious a lot. He wasn't sure what to do to deal with the problem, and talking with Nick and Alby wasn't helping. They were discussing what to do about the problems in the Glade, and didn't seem to appreciate any of his input.

"This doesn't concern you, Tyn," Nick said angrily.

"It does. I live here, too," he said. Alby gave him an apologetic look, and glared at Nick.

"Of course it concerns you. Thanks for your help, but I think we're good here. Why don't you go check on Minho?" he said. Tyn nodded. He liked Alby, but Nick was too hard around the edges. He wasn't sure why Alby was second in command when he would so obviously do a better job as leader than Nick. He went to the Med-hut and meant to knock on the door when he heart Jeff and Clint talking in rushed voices on the other side. He wasn't usually one to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help hearing one of them mention Elizabeth's name, so he pressed his ear against the door. Despite it being thin, his glasses got in the way and some of their words were muffled, but he managed to get most of their conversation.

"When you're gone? What do...think that means?"

"...don't know. Do you know...Thomas?"

"Maybe it was someone she knew before."

"Did she see it?"

"I don't know...looked upset."

"...should talk to her about it?"

Tyn didn't understand what they were talking about, but they sounded worried. He shook his head and knocked on the door. The voices died down and after a beat Clint opened the door.

"Oh, Tyn. Did you need something?" he asked.

"I was just coming to see how Minho was doing..." Tyn replied, staring at his feet awkwardly.

"He's asleep." Clint eyed Tyn curiously.

"O-of course he is!" Tyn stammered, trying to think of a way out of this. Did Clint suspect him of eavesdropping? He pushed his glasses up his nose and wiped his hands on his pants. "I'll go find Elizabeth and see how she's doing."

"Elizabeth?" Clint's tone turned suspicious. He frowned and looked behind him at Jeff, who was also eyeing Tyn warily.

"Y-yes! I was j-just going to say hello. She went through some things today, I guess," he said, then added, "I-in the Maze, I mean! She was with Minho when he-you know..." he trailed off. Clint was still looking at him strangely.

"Ye-es," he said. "Ask her if she needs anything for any bruises or cuts. Jeff and I didn't really get a chance to talk before she ran off with Newt. She was sort of bloody so I don't know if she go hurt too."

"Oh! Oh, yes! Yes I will ask her. I'm sure she's fine, though," Tyn said. Clint nodded and closed the door, and Tyn backed away. He waited for a few more seconds, but heard nothing from the other side.

Tyn decided to keep his word and go check on Elizabeth. He hadn't seen her since she'd returned, and she was pretty shaken up over the whole thing. He knew where her hut was, but he'd never been there before. She might be sleeping, but if that was the case he'd just ask her tomorrow. It wasn't that big of a deal, but he _was_ wondering how she was doing. Elizabeth was a good friend, and accepted people as they were. He liked that about her. She never judged him, and in fact sought him out many times to talk and laugh with him. It was easy to feel comfortable around someone like that.

He reached her hut and knocked on the door. There wasn't a response. She was probably sleeping, then. He turned to leave, but the sound of banging on the other side stopped him. For the second time that night, Tyn found himself craning his neck to eavesdrop. He didn't hear anything else other than the occasional rustling. He knocked again.

"Elizabeth? Are you okay? It's Tyn."

No response. The logical thing was probably just to leave her alone, but maybe she was having a nightmare or something. She _had_ looked pretty upset earlier.

"Elizabeth, I'm coming in!" he said. She didn't answer. He opened the door...

...and screamed.

Elizabeth and Newt were tangled up in each other on the cot, half naked and wholly surprised. Elizabeth's shirt was ripped and hanging down her shoulders, exposing her bare shoulders. Her damp hair was like a curtain, but he could clearly see her bare stomach and her bra... _oh shuck he was going to be sick!_

Newt wasn't much better. He wasn't even _wearing_ a shirt, and his hair was messier than Tyn had ever seen it. He was breathing so heavily it could have been a heart attack, and there was a strange glaze in his eyes. His pants were sliding precariously low, and if Tyn hadn't been so horrified, he might have been turned on. As it was, the two were practically eating each other like nothing decent. They screamed too when he broke through the door, and while they didn't exactly let each other go, they pulled apart and Elizabeth tried - and failed - to cover herself with the remains of her shirt.

After the initial shock wore off and they'd stopped screaming at each other, Elizabeth smiled shyly and cocked her head. Her cheeks were flushed, but not from embarrassment.

"Hiya, Tyn," she said, her voice low. Tyn covered his mouth and ran out, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

 _Shuck! Shuck! Shuck!_ He ran to his own hut, promising all the gods in the sky that he would never eavesdrop again, and would never _ever_ open the door to someones hut without permission again.

* * *

Tyn avoided him like the plague for days after the incident. It didn't bother Newt in a deep way, but it was a little _embarrassing_. Especially since he was so obvious about avoiding them the others started asking about it. Of course Newt didn't know how to respond to all their questions. It wasn't that he was ashamed about making out with Elizabeth, it was the fact that Tyn had walked in on them that made everything awkward. It was his own fault for failing to knock, though he probably had and just assumed he could waltz right in or something.

While the bespectacled Glader refused to speak about what happened to anyone, least of all him or Elizabeth, Newt came clean to a few of the guys after it happened, including the recovering Minho and Alby. They laughed of course, but they were cool about the whole thing and stopped pestering him about it. Elizabeth was on the opposite side of the spectrum. She didn't come out with the reason behind Tyn's avoidance, but when Gally questioned her directly at dinner one night she was honest about it.

"Why the shuck is Tyn avoiding you like the plague?" Gally asked.

Elizabeth shrugged: "It's probably because he walked in on Newt and I while we were making out."

"WHAT?!" Zart shouted. A few of them almost spewed out their drinks. Will actually laughed so hard the food in his mouth ended up all over his shirt.

"Yeah, he didn't even knock!" Elizabeth's voice was teasing, but Newt could feel the heat on his face. He tried to focus on eating and pretended nothing happened.

It didn't work. Dalton clapped him on the shoulder shouting "Atta boy, Newt!" while some of the others whooped at him and started throwing pieces of their food at him and giving him air high-fives.

"Way to man up, Newtie!"

"Oh man, I'm jealous of that slinthead!"

"How long did it take you to get this far, ya stupid klunk?"

"Yeah, Newt!"

Newt slumped lower and lower in his seat. At least Tyn was at the farther end of the table. Nobody was even paying any attention to him which was unfair since he was the one who caused all of the drama in the first place.

"Aw look, he's embarrassed!" Zart cried.

"Your face is redder than a beet in the hot sun!" Snow said.

"I got some small bowls in the back," Frypan said, "we can make some ice later if it gets too unbearable for you."

Bloody hell this was torture!

"So Elizabeth," P.F. said, raising an eyebrow, "how would you rate the experience?"

More laughter and shouts. Newt groaned. He caught of glance of Tyn, who had very wide eyes and was looking generally horrified.

"Oh, a definite ten out of ten!" Elizabeth responded amiably, "He's a great kisser." Why was she still talking? Couldn't she just change the subject? Why didn't she feel as violated as he was feeling? His face was on fire.

"Bet he's not as good as I am," Chris said. Elizabeth turned on him with a glare.

"Newt, why are you so embarrassed, shank?" Minho asked. "It's natural to mess around with your girlfriend."

"I'm not embarrassed about _that_! I - bloody hell can't you just leave it alone?"New said, returning to his food, "It's not any of your damn business."

He expected another snarky retort, but Minho nodded and said, "You're right, it's not."

Eventually the hype calmed down and the Gladers got bored of the topic and switched the conversation.

"That was _really_ awkward," Elizabeth said afterwards. Newt blanched.

" _Awkward_? Shuck, Elizabeth, you could've fooled me," he said. She kissed his cheek and he blushed under her touch. She giggled.

"Don't stress so much. Tyn will get over his little thing and we'll all move on like it never happened."

"Tyn? _That's_ what you're worried about?" Newt raised an eyebrow and Elizabeth raised her eyebrow back at him.

"Why, what are you worried about?" Her nose wrinkled and Newt relaxed.

"I'm not worried, I'm just...kind of mortified that he's making such a big deal about it." He nudged her shoulder, "I'm glad the Glade knows we're together," he said.

"Me too," Elizabeth responded.

"They're probably all seething in jealousy, though. I'd be careful if I were you.e all men, and men are...well, men." Newt warned. She wrinkled her nose again. He loved it when she wrinkled her nose, it was so cute.

"I'm not worried. They're not all monsters; a lot of them are quite decent," she laughed, "and besides, I've got you to protect me!"

Newt felt a happy swelling in his chest. Elizabeth was not a damsel in distress by any means, but it felt really good that she looked to him for protection, anyway. It meant a lot that she trusted him that much, and that she felt safe enough to let him be the initiator in the relationship. That kind of submission was both flattering and admirable. He took her hand in his and they walked along the Wall, just enjoying being in each other's company.

After a while, when it was darker, Elizabeth squeezed his hand. "Newt, I need a favor of you."

He squeezed back, "Anything for you, Love."

She took a deep breath and pulled her hand away to wring her hands together. She was shaking slightly. Newt's eyebrow creased.

"What's wrong? You need me to do your laundry or something one day? I don't mind," he said, concerned.

"No, that's not it," she let out a small laugh. "It's, um...Newt, I just want you to promise me..." her voice trailed off. She took another shaky breath and composed herself.

"Promise you...?" Newt's own stomach clenched in fear. Why was she suddenly so nervous?

"Promise me that when I'm gone, you'll go on living your life. It's okay to be sad, but don't let it consume you."

Where the _shuck_ was this coming from?

"Elizabeth, what are you talking about? When you're gone?"

"Promise me," she said, her voice stronger now. "I need you to live and be happy. I love you so much, and I want you to..." she broke off with a sob and he took her shoulders in his.

"Elizabeth you're really freaking me out! Why are you talking as if you're going to die? If you die..." he stopped. "Please tell me where this is coming from, I'm confused."

"It's nothing," she shook her head, tears streaming down her face like tiny rivers. "Just...don't forget-" she tried to shake him off but he was already wiping away her tears with shaky hands.

"Forget? Elizabeth there's no way in hell I'd ever forget you. Is that what you're worried about?"

"No, it's just a...feeling I have."

"A feeling? Love, you've got to give me more than that." He wasn't trying to pressure her, but if she wouldn't talk she'd make herself sick. She tended to stress out about things that she should have to stress out about. He hated this conversation, and he hated thinking about what would happen if she were to die, but in all reality he had the same chances of dying she did. They all did.

"It's just a feeling," she repeated. She leaned into his touch and cried into his shirt. He held her to him, confused and upset.

"You aren't going to die, Elizabeth. If you do, I...we'll be together, alright? We all know there's a chance of us dying, but don't think about stuff like this."

Suddenly she looked up at him, meeting his gaze with her blue-grey eyes without blinking.

"Promise me," she said. Why did she keep saying that?

"Promise me that...if I die you'll continue living and won't give up. I don't ever want you walking around hopeless just because I'm not around anymore. You have Minho, and you have Alby, and you have Gally."

"I promise." As soon as the words left his mouth she relaxed, releasing a little sigh of relief. Her shoulders no longer heaved with sobs as she leaned back into him, nuzzling her head on his shirt. "I promise I will be okay if you die."

* * *

 ***Special Author's Note***

 **Sorry it took so long to get this part up. Hopefully the next one won't take as long. Thanks for the comments, I love them!**


	29. S2-Ep9: When You're Bored

**Season Two** **,** **Episode Nine: When You're Bored**

* * *

Tyn was practically unapproachable after the incident, and Elizabeth kept her distance to save herself from further embarrassment. She missed talking to him, but...it was awkward. It was awkward with some of the others, too, P.F. and Dalton teased her whenever they could during Running. For some reason it made things that much more entertaining for them. She tolerated it in the beginning, and then it just got old.

"I don't see how it's a big deal," she told them one day.

"Of course it's not," Dalton replied, "not really, anyway."

"But that doesn't mean it can't be," P.F. had added with a snort.

Really. It was pretty immature. She let them get away with it, though, because she understood that being cooped up in a Maze for a year meant things were always the same. It was so boring nowadays, even with the dying crops and pigs. Even when said maze was wasn't much to do other than bet on wrestling matches or walk through the Deadheads as if you hadn't explored every inch of them before. There was only so much Glade a person could take.

Elizabeth and the other Runners weren't the only ones feeling restless. Frypan had started more experimentation with his alcohol-which involved mixing baking soda and sugar-water together for "taste." Jeff and Winston had started crafting together a mannequin made of wood, pillows, and anything else they could find to practice on. Nick declared he was leaving the Runners and Track-hoes and started flitting around with the other jobs. He wasn't any good at cooking or with the Slicers, but he found he appreciated building more than he used to. Unfortunately, he and Gally but heads a lot. According to Newt, there was many-a-time that their arguments could be heard throughout the whole clearing.

"USE THIS END TO POUND, YOU STUPID SHANK!" Gally.

"DON'T SHUCKING TELL ME WHAT TO DO OR I'LL BASH YOUR HEAD IN!" Nick.

Honestly. Elizabeth wished another girl would be sent up by-either by accident or on purpose-one day. There seemed to be only so much testosterone she could take. Even Newt got on her nerves sometimes, and she loved him more than she could explain. She loved all of them in a different way, of course. They were family. But Newt...well, of course he would be different.

"What'cha thinking so hard about?" P.F interrupted her thoughts. She realized she'd been holding her sandwich for quite some time now, without eating it. They'd stopped for lunch and were leaning against the side of the Maze. Minho was on lookout, though he had his own, half-eaten sandwich between his fingers instead of his Griever-sword.

"Daydreaming about a certain Track-hoe again?" P.F. snickered and Elizabeth felt her face go hot.

"I was not!" She totally had been. "I don't think about him as often as you think I do!" She totally did.

"Girl, you're lying through your teeth," Dalton said. P.F. nudged him and they giggled together some more. Elizabeth found herself rolling her eyes.

"Bloody hell, you're acting like schoolgirls. Most of my daydreams are about, you know, girl stuff." She was just digging a deeper hole for herself. And since when had she started saying _bloody hell?_ Newt's face popped into her head and her blush deepened. They laughed harder like they could read her mind. She wasn't going to hear the end of this.

"Would you shanks stop bothering her?" Minho suddenly said, "I'm getting tired of all that Newt crap because of one time they kissed and we heard about it."

 _Thank you, Minho,_ Elizabeth thought.

"Find something else to laugh about," Minho stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. Elizabeth smiled smugly at Dalton and P.F. whose expressions had turned sheepish. She was about to gloat, but then Minho cut her off with a glare.

"And eat your lunch, Elizabeth," he said, "You're skinny enough as is."

"No problem, Dad," Elizabeth said.

And just like that, Dalton and P.F. had something else to laugh about.

* * *

Gally was having a lousy day. First he woke up to Chris rummaging around his stuff. Loudly. He didn't even _try_ being sneaky about snooping around places he didn't belong. Gally should have been used to klunk like that by now, but it was just as annoying this time as it was the first time. Did the stupid shank not get that he didn't own anything even remotely interesting? The dude would probably get more satisfaction out of going through Elizabeth's stuff. A guy could dream.

Then his breakfast had been stone cold, as if Frypan had made the eggs last night rather than this morning. He would have been okay with it if the cook hadn't made some snarky comment about first dibs. It was idiotic because Gally was always one of the first awake in the morning and he'd never had a problem with "dibs," before.

 _Makes me want to scream._

To add insult to injury, Nick followed him to the unfinished hut he'd been working on. Alone. It wasn't that Gally didn't appreciate working with Doug and Louis, but sometimes he liked building things on his own. Nick could talk big, but he couldn't put his money where his mouth was. The most he'd done "helping" Gally was shredding up the rest of the wooden planks from last month's Box because he assumed the title "Builder" meant tearing up shit and prying nails out of boards.

"You should have stuck with mowing the vegetables," he said when Nick overlapped two pieces of wood together width-wise rather than length-wise for the umpteenth time.

"It's called _plowing_ , shank," Nick said, scowling.

"Which is exactly why I'm not a Track-hoe. Do yourself a favor and stick with what you're good at."

"You saying I'm no good at building stuff like you are?" Nick's face was turning that angry-purple color again. Gally hated that particular shade. He could at least _try_ make it a nice, pale lavender.

"Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying! I've been saying it for the last four days!" Could the guy be even more dense? Gally expected Nick to bust out yelling at that, but the man surprised him with no more than an exasperated glare.

"I'm not stupid," he said.

"Did I say you were?" Gally tried very hard not to raise his voice.

"No. But you were thinkin' it." Frusterated, Nick threw down his hammer.

"Shut up. Don't tell me what I was or wasn't thinking."

Nick went quiet. Gally was even more surprised about that than the sissy glare, but he'd take it. As long as he didn't get in the way of things.

"You don't think I'm stupid?" Nick's voice five minutes later startled Gally.

"NO!" he shouted. All he wanted was to work in peace, was that too much to ask for?

"Oh," Nick sounded smaller than usual. It was weird. Maybe the slinthead _was_ stupid. Why were they still talking about this, anyway?

After another few minutes had passed, Nick picked up the hammer again. "Thanks," he said, "I don't think you're stupid, either."

Gally blinked. He looked over at Nick, who seemed to be trying, _actually trying_ this time to do a good job on piecing the side of the hut together. He didn't remember the last time the guy had thanked anybody for anything. He was always so arrogant and stubborn to do so. But he wasn't stupid. Gally wasn't stupid, either. He knew that already, of course, but it was...nice hearing it from somebody else's mouth. Maybe that was why Nick was so upset. If he thought about it, he realized that everybody always just talked about how ornery and fierce-tempered Nick was. Everybody expected him to be yell and get angry and argumentative. That was just the type of person he was and everyone knew and expected it.

They thought about him that way, too. He remembered something Elizabeth said a long time ago, back when they were Greenies: _Are you always so broody?_ No. Well, yes, he supposed he was "broody" in a sort of way, but he didn't always mean to be. He was just Gally.

Nick, too. He wasn't stupid, he was just Nick. And just Nick wasn't always so predictable, either. Gally remembered when Dave was suffering from a concussion and when Elizabeth had just heard the news about Newt jumping off the wall. Those instances opened a different side of Nick; more subtle but no less Nick.

"Here," Gally held up his portion of the wall beside Nick's. "You keep them connected at the corner and I'll pound them in."

* * *

"Have you ever been in the Maze?" Damon was asking Snow. The older boy shook his head.

"Nah, it's sort of an unspoken rule that only the Runners go in."

"But why? What's so great about keeping the rest of us locked up?" Damon continued. He and Snow were standing around with Story and Chris with nothing to do but be bored.

"It's not the Runners' fault we're stuck in here," Snow pointed out.

"He has a valid point, though," Chris said. "According to Elizabeth we're being tested on how long it takes us to get out of here. Logically there should be more than just four of us going out to look for a way out."

Snow frowned. He wasn't fully on board with the whole "everything is a test" theory. Tests came with rules, and he wasn't quite sure what those rules were, apart from just living life.

"We can ask Minho if he'd let us go with them one day," Stoy suggested. Snow liked that idea. It seemed fair, and Minho was fair.

"We could ask," Chris shrugged,"Or we could pretend that we're old enough to make our own decisions."

"But we _are_ old enough," Stoy said, confused. He was what, thirteen? Fourteen? Snow guessed.

"Yeah, that's what I meant," Chris said casually. He was always so casual with everything. Snow didn't like that about him, but he did like the way he always spoke his mind and didn't stand for getting bossed around. Honestly, the people here were too stiff-necked. Sure, Chris could be a jerk, but at least he stood up for himself.

"Why should we have to ask permission from some random shank? If you want to have a look around the Maze go do it."

"Won't Nick and Alby get angry if we do that?" Damon asked.

"Maybe. Who cares?" Chris shrugged and looked to Snow with an amused expression on his face.

"What about the Grievers?" Damon was still hesitant. Snow didn't blame him for that. From what he knew of them, those were the one thing you didn't want to come across in the Maze.

"We're all fairly bright," Chris said, "You know the danger. If you decide to go into the Maze and get killed it's your own fault."

"Stop scaring the kids, Chris," Snow said. Damon and Stoy didn't look scared. They looked thoughtful. "It doesn't matter if we don't go in the Maze or not."

"Doesn't it?" The edge of Chris's mouth turned up in a cocky grin. "We live here, too. If we were all out looking for a way out, maybe we wouldn't still be here."

"It would be respectful to ask Minho, anyway," Snow frowned. He didn't like the direction this conversation was going.

"Chris is right," Stoy spoke up, "Minho's not the boss of us. I should be able to do what I want freely."

"Now this is where it gets interesting," Chris said under his breath. Snow ignored him.

"I said to ask him out of respect, not because he's the boss."

Stoy looked like he was about to say something else, but Damon stopped him, "You're right Snow, we should ask Minho, first." He glared at Stoy. Snow was relieved, but still felt some explanation was necessary.

"Besides," he went on, "the whole reason we have rules set up is so people don't do stupid stuff in the first place. You think a world without any laws and people did whatever they wanted is really safe? It sounds nice, sure, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to lie without the knowledge of consequences."

That shut them up. Good.

"You're quite the philosopher, Snow," Chris said, almost in admiration.

Snow shook his head, "It's not philosophy, it's common sense."

"Of course. Whatever the man says."

Snow wasn't convinced. He changed the subject to girls, which was much more interesting, in his opinion. Stoy entertained them with his cringy ideas of an ideal woman and he forgot about the Maze. As long as they were all surviving, it wasn't that important, anyway.

* * *

 ***Special Author's Note***

 **Thanks for bearing with me. The next chapter will be up sooner this time.**


	30. S2-Ep10: I Appreciate You

**Season Two, Episode Ten: I Appreciate** **You**

* * *

"Uh...did I miss something? Are you two an item?" the Greenie asked, looking back-and-forth between Tyn and Elizabeth.

"NO!" they said in unison. The newbie took a step back and blinked.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Elizabeth was showing the newest Glader around the glade, with the help of a certain bespectacled boy. The two of them had walked in awkward silence for a time, but Elizabeth eventually grew tired of the rift between them, and all over some silly little incident.

"We didn't do anything, you know," Elizabeth had said.

"Oh, sure. Of course. That's why your shirt was ripped in half," Tyn replied.

"I was wearing a bra! You barely saw anything!"

"Egh, please. _Don't_ remind me."

The argument had no doubt confused Waldo, who was still staring at them a little strangely. He reminded Elizabeth of a cat, with bright hazel eyes and a combed mullet. He moved with a feline-like grace, and wrinkled his nose and sniffed at the state of his hut. Leo was excited to meet his new bunk-mate, so he was there when the party of three got there.

"Hey!" he said, opening the door to let Waldo in. "I'm Leo!"

"Pleasure," Waldo said, still giving the room scrutiny.

"Is something wrong?" Leo frowned. Waldo looked at Tyn.

"This is my home?"

"Well, yes. I-I mean you share it with Leo, but yes," Tyn said. Waldo nodded.

"I understand, but where is the bed I'm going to use?" he asked. Elizabeth and Tyn shared a look.

"You can use that cot there," Leo pointed to the empty cot on the right side of the room. His cot was obviously used, with some food from breakfast still left unfinished in a bowl. Waldo winced.

"You mean...you all actually live like this?" Waldo's eyes were looking more and more like tiny slits. Cat. "Like savages?"

"Excuse me," Elizabeth said, clearing her throat, "we are hardly savages. We have communal meals, keep ourselves hygienic, and don't go around acting like barbarians. No, we don't have feather blankets and downy mattresses, but if we did, I assure you, we'd be using them."

"I didn't mean any offence," Waldo said quickly, turning a bit pink. "I didn't mean savages, I just meant..." he trailed off, unable to think of a better word.

"He meant savages," Tyn whispered in Elizabeth's direction. She straightened and met Waldo's gaze, holding it with severity for several seconds. Waldo grew visibly uneasy under her stare. He looked at Tyn instead, and Tyn suddenly found himself unable to keep a straight face.

"I meant homeless people, of course! The depravity of it all-" Waldo was cut off.

Elizabeth laughed when Tyn did; she nearly tripped over herself, she leaned so far left. Tyn bumped into her and they clutched each other, laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" Waldo asked. He had no idea. He had no idea how funny it all was. His cat-eyes, his feline grace, the way he sniffed the air in disapproval, asking them if they were an _item_ , the pure disdain in his voice when he said the word _savages_...it was ridiculous. Incredibly ridiculous.

But also, _really_ hilarious. Anyone could see that this Greenbean had probably been raised in some sort of wealthy home before the Maze. He might not remember his past, but there was obviously enough of him in there that he couldn't handle the mediocrity of the Glade. Tears fell down Elizabeth's face-she was laughing so hard her collarbone hurt.

"We're homeless, Tyn!" she wheezed, trying to calm herself.

 _"The depravity of it all!"_ Tyn actually had to get on his knees in order to stabilize himself.

"I fail to see the humor-"

"He fails! Tyn he _fails_ _to see the humor_!" Elizabeth was absolutely delighted. It wasn't that she wanted to make fun of Waldo, really. It was just that...everything that came out of his mouth was so cheesy. He sounded like he was right out of a black-and-white movie. No, she didn't know what he sounded like exactly, but it was something along those lines. Nobody she knew ever said things like "extremely distasteful" or, "what a quaint little water-system."

"That's funny," Elizabeth said when she'd finally stopped laughing ever second. "You're funny, Waldo."

"You're welcome?"

"Shall we continue with the tour, sir?" Elizabeth held her arm out for Waldo who, after a brief pause, took it in his own. Just like a perfect, television gentleman would.

"Elizabeth, can we talk after you're done showing the...Greenbean around?" Leo asked. Elizabeth was surprised. She turned to look at Leo and he looked at her. He had the most serious expression on his face she'd ever seen on him.

"Yeah, how about we meet after lunch or something," she suggested.

"Thanks," Leo said, and closed the door after them. Elizabeth hoped it wasn't a love confession. That's usually what it was when any of them drew her aside privately. She'd had enough of that, but she had to get it over with sometime. It was best to talk about it privately, anyway. As long as it wasn't _too_ private.

* * *

Waldo chose to help Frypan in the kitchen. Or whatever they were calling the chef's food-hut. It made sense. He hopped in with Frypan for lunch and they made a fantastic salad that more than one man (and Elizabeth) had to get seconds for.

What _didn't_ make sense was the way Leo was clinging to Elizabeth like a lost puppy. Elizabeth sat next to Newt, and Newt made to sit next on her other side as per usual, but Leo beat him to it. _Leo_. Sure, he was newer to the Glade, but wasn't it an unspoken rule that Newt always sat with Elizabeth? He couldn't remember a time _before_ she was beside him at the table, with her soft shoulders and messy blonde hair.

Instead of making a big deal about it, Newt decided to approach the situation like a mature adult, and sat next to Leo. It technically wasn't that big of a deal, anyway. Gally watched him sit down with raised eyebrows, but didn't offer his seat up. He did, however, make a point of staring down the younger Glader.

Elizabeth, who was completely oblivious and just assumed it was Newt sitting down, leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. Her arm brushed against his suggestively. Leo blushed furiously when her warm breath caressed the skin between his neck and shoulder as she let out a startled gasp and pulled back from him. She leaned back into Gally, who was in the middle of guiding a forkful of salad to his mouth. He dropped the fork when she crashed into him, and it fell into his lap.

" _Yo_ , Elizabeth!" He pushed on her back and helped her sit back up while simultaneously brushing the lettuce off his pants.

"L-Leo!" Elizabeth squeaked. Her face was redder than Leo had ever seen it. Newt's chest burned with annoyance. He tried really hard to control it, but his voice still came out strangled.

"I'm over here, Elizabeth," he said.

"Wh-what? I'm sorry, Leo, I didn't realize you'd sat down!" Elizabeth was also trying to contain her embarrassment over the situation. She was more flustered than she had been when Tyn had walked in on them kissing. Newt rolled his eyes and squeezed the edge of the table. She was so weird. He knew there wasn't a reason to feel jealous, but her touch had been meant for him.

"It's okay, it's okay," Leo said, stuttering as badly as she was. He subconsciously edged closer to Newt, and gave the older boy a sorrowful expression.

"I didn't mean to-"

Newt cut him off, "Nah-whatever, you klunk. I know you didn't mean to."

"Sorry, Gals," Elizabeth apologized to Gally. He made a small huffing noise.

"Don't call me Gals."

"I can call you whatever I want and you know it," Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at him and Gally rolled his eyes, but there was a certain, teasing sparkle in them.

"Whatever," he huffed.

"Um...so, Elizabeth, you said we could talk later?" Leo butted in. Elizabeth gave him a sideways glance and nodded. Newt went on hyper-alert. Elizabeth could feel him tense up even with a body between them.

"Sure. Whenever you're ready."

Something knocked against Leo's foot underneath the table. He pulled them closer to the chair and Elizabeth kicked Newt in the shin. He winced a little, but otherwise made no other indication he'd felt anything.

"Well, uh...I just wanted to tell you that some of the guys...uh, my friends, actually..." Leo trailed off and Elizabeth looked at him. Really looked at him. He was a bit paler than usual. She set down her fork. This wasn't a love confession, this was something else. And for some reason the younger boy felt more comfortable telling her than telling Nick or Alby or Newt. It should have flattered her, but it didn't. She wasn't even close to being a leader-figure, and if it was something really serious, she'd have to tell Nick and Alby anyway. Either way, she couldn't keep anything from Newt so he'd at least hear about it.

"Come on," she said, taking Leo's arm lightly. She stood up and ignored the eyes that followed her.

"Let's talk over there," she said, gesturing to a nearby pine. Leo's shoulders flattened in relief and he nodded. Elizabeth met Newt's eyes and he raised his eyebrows.

 _Later,_ she mouthed, and then followed Leo to the tree.

* * *

Newt was pissed, Gally could tell that much. Whether it was because Leo had purposely sat next to his girlfriend, or the fact that he got her to follow him away from the table, he didn't know. It was probably both.

"Stop fidgeting, shank," Gally said. Newt shot him an irritated look, and then sighed and shook his head.

"Sorry, I'm just-"

"You know one of the reasons I appreciate Elizabeth so much?" Gally chose his words carefully. He didn't say like, because that might get some of the other Gladers' attentions, and he really didn't want to have to deal with "big brother Gally," again. Newt raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he obliged.

Gally cocked his head as if in thought, "She's an extremely trustworthy person, wouldn't you say?"

Newt frowned, "Yeah. I trust her a lot," he said.

"Do you?" Gally asked. New flinched. "That's funny. I always thought you found it hard to trust people.

"Shut up, Gally, what the klunk are you even talking about right now?" Gally could tell he didn't want to talk about this, but he didn't care because he didn't exactly want to talk about it, either. He was bad at talking. Everybody knew that.

"Think about it, Newt. The way you tried and stopped her from Running. The way you act every time she goes off with another friend, who's a _friend_. The way you attacked me right after I said I liked her. As a _sister_." Gally shrugged his shoulders and glared at Newt, "Trust is a funny thing, Newt. It takes two to tango. You can't trust when your heart is full of doubt. Sure, you _say_ you trust her, but then you don't _show_ that you do."

Newt didn't say anything after Gally stopped talking. The Builder went back to eating his salad and couldn't care less whether or not the shank had heard him or not. He'd said what he wanted to say and that was that. He'd nearly forgotten that he'd said anything when Newt sighed in relief and punched him in the shoulder. It wasn't a hard punch, but it took Gally off guard and he dropped a few more pieces of spinach.

"Will everyone PLEASE STOP TOUCHING ME?!" Gally clenched his fists and shrank into himself, clutching the bowl of salad in the protective wing of his arms.

Newt chuckled. Gally glared at him, but it softened after a moment when Newt didn't stop looking at him with his goofy grin. The shank could be so obnoxious, sometimes.

"You know, I should listen to you more often, Gally. Whenever you talk about something you believe in, you're bloody brilliant."

Gally's cheeks warmed, but he held Newt's gaze. After a brief pause, he nodded and offered a crooked smile.

"Good, that," he said.

"That's not really a surprise," Alby's voice was unexpected, but the table had been quiet for a while, now. Gally realized they'd all been listening to his conversation with Newt. His face grew hotter. He wanted to cover himself with mud, but at the same time he kind of wanted to know what Alby meant.

"He's a hard read, but he's no dummy, and I like how hard he works," Alby said. Gally didn't know what to say. He didn't want to respond; this was one of those awkward social conversations guys know about but don't really _know_ about. Like getting all sappy was okay when you were with your girl, but getting all sappy with your bros was…a little unnerving.

"Why, underneath that ugly exterior Gally's just a big teddy-bear!"

Okay, that was a little better.

"What the shuck you call me?" Gally forked the rest of the salad into his mouth and pushed away the bowl, "At least I don't go around telling shanks what to do all the time."

Alby raised an eyebrow, but Gally continued: "Yeah, that's right. You all heard me. Alby's got cool talking skills and…organizational klunk. If I had that kind of power, I'd use it to my advantage, too."

Alby smiled. Gally refused to smile back, but he could feel his lips twitching. The rest of the Gladers were nodding their heads in agreement, and suddenly there were weird, little bouts of almost backhanded appreciation being spouted off all around the table.

"Zart's always sharply dressed; you'd think the slinthead had somewhere romantic to be!"

"Clint has mad bandage-wrapping abilities."

"I guess Louis has nice eyebrows."

"P.F. and Dalton are so loyal; they'd make a good couple! But seriously, I wish I had that kind of friendship."

"I like Tyn's glasses."

Waldo, who was watching the whole thing transpire, felt better about being there, in the Glade. He didn't feel so alone among these strange men, nor did he feel out of place. He may not have wanted to be sent to the Maze, but that didn't mean he didn't belong.

"I think I shall like it here, after all," he concluded with a nod.

No one noticed the absence of Leo and Elizabeth, who had been gone for quite some time. Even Newt, who often felt a physical sort of loneliness whenever she was gone, didn't feel as anxious that she wasn't there with him. Because he loved her. And because he trusted her.


	31. S2-Ep11: When the Going Gets Strong

**Season Two, Episode Eleven: When the Going Gets Strong**

* * *

Elizabeth followed Leo to the edge of the Glade. She was trying to remain composed, but it got harder the closer they got to the entrance of the Maze. Leo stopped at the enormous doors, gazing into the Maze with awe before Elizabeth shoved past him. She tightened her ponytail and glared at the walls, as if she could somehow make them disappear forever.

"Remind me whose idea this was, again?" she asked, her voice shaking with contained anger.

Leo flinched. "Damon was the one who brought it up first. I told them to ask Alby first but they went to Chris and Snow instead," he explained.

"Right." Elizabeth didn't want to admit how worried she was, because she didn't want to upset the other Gladers, but she also knew she couldn't handle the situation alone. Damon and Stoy had apparently gone backpacking into the Maze, and Leo had tried to stop them—or so he said—to no avail. Clearly they had forgotten all the dangers of said Maze; Elizabeth really couldn't imagine someone being so deluded. She mentally listed off her options before turning to Leo and nodding.

"Okay, here's the plan," she said, "The sun isn't going down for another couple hours. I'll let Minho know, and we'll go look for Stoy and Damon."

Leo licked his lips. "Do…I mean, should I come with you?"

"Not necessary," Elizabeth said. He would only slow them down, and they didn't need one more person who might need saving. She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and bit her lip in thought.

"Actually it may be a good idea to tell Nick and Alby what's going on," she said.

"We can't tell them!" Leo's voice was suddenly frantic. Elizabeth frowned at him.

"I know you don't want to make anyone upset, but it's not your fault, Leo. Alby and Nick can decide if we tell the others or not, so we can keep the whole thing under wraps. I know you don't want to make anyone upset, but in the end I need to do what's best for the Glade."

"I know! I just…I should have told them sooner. They'll be angry that I waited." Leo looked at the ground and Elizabeth was reminded that he was still just a kid. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave him what she thought was her most reassuring smile.

"This isn't your fault, Leo," she said.

They walked back to the rest of the Gladers, most of them had dispersed after finishing the meal. Elizabeth sidled up to Minho as he was walking to the showers.

"Slight change of plans," she said.

* * *

Leo licked his lips, nervously. He could feel Chris's eyes on him, dark and judgmental. Leo knew that somehow he had figured out what was going on. Damon and Stoy hadn't been around for a while, and while most of the Gladers had shrugged it aside, Chris had been eerily silent; chewing his food and searching the table until his gaze landed on Leo's.

That was when he'd pulled Elizabeth aside. He couldn't take the pressure, anymore. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault, and Elizabeth wouldn't think it was, either. Telling anyone else would be a mistake. And he was right, of course. Elizabeth told him it wasn't his fault. She'd flashed her cheerful, white smile at him and said he didn't have to feel guilty.

Leo didn't feel guilty. Yet. What he felt was anxious. Anxious because after Elizabeth drew Minho aside, they looked at each other grimly and walked away together in a direction Leo couldn't pinpoint. Anxious because Chris kept boring holes in his head with that accusatory glare. And anxious because everybody else was so…calm. Normal. Everyone thought it was just another normal evening. Zart and Alby were laughing together about something that had happened earlier, and a few of the builders had gotten together to discuss if the next project should be another hut, or another klunker-stall. Clint and Jeff were walking towards the Homestead, followed by Snow who was explaining something to the Greenie (who had been perturbed ever since he showed up in the box).

"You okay there, Leo?" Leo jumped at the voice and the boy behind him chuckled a little, like he wanted to laugh but knew he shouldn't.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," the accent meant it was Newt. Leo turned and shrugged nonchalantly.

"I wasn't startled," he said. This time Newt really did laugh. The skin around his eyes crinkled and his mouth opened in amusement. For some reason, watching Elizabeth's boyfriend laugh without constraint made Leo uneasy. _Now_ he felt guilty. Why hadn't Elizabeth told Newt about Damon and Stoy?

Shuck, why hadn't _Leo_?

"Sure you weren't," Newt punched him lightly in the shoulder and Leo grunted. Newt cocked his head.

"You didn't answer my question," he said, still smiling.

"I'm alright. Just a little tired," Leo said. It was a half-truth. He wasn't exactly alright, but he _was_ tired and other than the fact his friends were somewhere in the Maze, he was okay. For the most part, anyway.

"You tell Elizabeth what you needed to?" Newt asked. Shuck! Leo had forgotten that Newt was there when they left together. And she had never gone back to finish her meal. That must be why Newt was talking to him right now! He was suspicious and—Leo took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. He nodded.

"Oh, yeah. I told her," he said awkwardly. Newt raised an eyebrow.

"What did you have to talk about? Why are you so nervous right now?"

Leo said the first thing that popped in his head: "I just told her she's really pretty."

Newt paused, and Leo could feel his heartbeat increase, and the blood running to his cheeks. _Shuck! Wrong thing to say! Abort mission! Abort!_

"That was nice of you," Newt said. He smiled again and Leo's shoulders relaxed. He hadn't been expecting that kind of response, but then again Newt was a decent shank.

"I get nervous telling her stuff like that, too," Newt continued. Leo blinked stupidly.

"Don't you do it all the time?" he asked. Newt shook his head at the ground.

"I guess, but I still get nervous," he punched Leo's shoulder again. "I get where you're coming from, is what I'm saying."

Leo laughed nervously. This was such a weird conversation. So he did what came naturally. He made it even more weird.

"Aren't you afraid she'll fall in love with me?" he said, and then quickly added: "I mean, not with me, I mean, with someone else! Maybe. I mean, she probably won't but I bet the other guys tell her she's pretty, too." He flinched, but Newt responded as if it were perfectly natural to talk about what would happen if Elizabeth left him for somebody else.

"I'm not afraid of that," he said, looking at Leo with amusement. "And no offense, but you're too young. I don't ever see Elizabeth going for some baby-faced slinthead."

Funny, Leo could argue that Newt had a baby-face, too. He held back a retort, though, and instead asked, "Why not?"

Newt paused again, but it didn't seem to be because he was creeped out by Leo's continued questioning.

"Because," Newt said, "it's love."

"I mean, I guess that makes sense," Leo said. He was feeling bored by the dull conversation. Bored, and a little grossed out. Newt was being so gooey and it was just…ugh. No thank you. Thankfully, Newt seemed to feel the same way, because he laughed again and changed the subject.

"Well, I'm glad you understand. You're an all right shank, Leo," he said. "I think I'm going to take a shower now. It was good talking to you, though. You know where Elizabeth went after you talked to her?"

Oh, klunk this question. _This question._

"Uh, I don't know," Leo said. He hoped it sounded more believable than it was.

"That's okay," Newt lifted his hand and gave a two-fingered salute. "See you around, Leo."

"Yeah, around…" Leo nodded goodbye and then turned to walk towards the homestead. He kept his eyes on the ground, glancing up every so often in the direction of the Maze.

* * *

"What the klunk were those slintheads thinking?" Minho groaned. His legs were already sore from running earlier, and the way things were going, they were going to have to up their pace to cover more ground. He and Elizabeth had stopped for a quick breather. He handed her the canteen and she drank from it greedily. He looked and tried to see further down the direction they were going, but things were starting to get hazy. He cursed at the disappearing sunlight and kicked the wall.

"We're going to have to go back, soon," he said. Elizabeth wiped the water from her mouth and handed him back the canteen without looking at him.

"I know," she said. Her voice didn't break. She didn't wince at his words. On the outside she was perfectly calm and composed, but Minho knew her well enough to know that she was panicking underneath her tough exterior. She cared about Stoy and Damon too much for that.

When Minho started jogging again, she followed, her breathing labored and intense. It never ceased to amaze him how rarely she complained, and how determined she was to keep up. Never. He knew P.F. and Dalton agreed with him; they sometimes brought it up when talking to her. After Elizabeth told him about Damon and Stoy, Minho had gone to look for the other Runners while Elizabeth informed Nick, but those stupid shanks weren't anywhere he looked, and they were running out of precious daylight so they had been left behind. In hindsight, Minho thought it was a pretty jacked idea to go without them (they could be covering more ground than they were currently), but he also knew it was imperative they find Damon and Stoy before the doors shut.

"DAMON!" he shouted, feeling the breath stolen from his lungs. He was so klunking tired. Why couldn't the bloody idiots have waited until tomorrow's shift to lose themselves?

"STOY!" His shouts were left with nothing but thudding echoes. They turned a corner, and the sun suddenly dipped behind the wall. Minho skidded to a halt and Elizabeth passed him. She looked over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?!" she asked, slowing down only slightly.

"Elizabeth—" Minho began. He was cut off by a piercing shriek and a chilling clanking sound behind him. He dodged away in the nick of time when he whirled around to face the Griever that had sneaked up on him and tried to stick him with its fang. Sweat glistened on Minho's forehead as he pulled out his Griever-sword and deflected the beast's next attack. The air whooshed behind him and he risked a glance back. Elizabeth had been thrown against the wall by a second Griever that had swatted her away like she was nothing. The wind having been knocked out of her, she didn't get up at first, and Minho went to get her, but the first Griever was still attacking him.

"ELIZABETH GET UP!" he yelled. He hoped she'd heard him. She'd be fine if she got up, but she easily could have broken a rib with a hit like that.

One of the walls started shifting, and Minho cursed. "ELIZABETH WE NEED TO GO NOW!" He brought his sword down on the Griever's leg and it shrieked, giving him enough time to turn around and run to Elizabeth, who was standing, but struggling to do anything more than shrink into a nearby ivy the Griever had trouble locating her in and dodge its relentless attacks. Minho slashed at its side it stepped to the side and howled at him, its teeth (if you could call them that) sharp as steel. Minho pushed his way to Elizabeth's side in the ivy. They sank behind the plant and the Grievers seemed to lose them for a second.

"On my count we run," he said over the noise of the two Grievers that were slamming their legs against the wall furiously. Elizabeth nodded, and grabbed his hand. He squeezed it and waited for an opening.

The Grievers had been more or less throwing their limbs on the wall of ivy and on the ground, but when Minho spoke, they zoned in on them. With a sudden scream, they tore into the ivy and Minho lost his hold on Elizabeth's hand. It was now or never.

"RUN!"

He came out of the ivy shouting his own profanities at the Grievers, who immediately lunged for him. Something slashed at his shoulder and the cold warmth of blood ran down his arm. He couldn't see Elizabeth anywhere, all he could see was the slow turn of the Maze's walls, closing in on him. The Grievers were faster than him. It was only a matter of time before they caught up, and there were two of them. There was no way he was getting out of this alive. He closed his eyes and started counting to ten.

"AARGH!"

Minho opened his eyes and P.F. and Dalton sped past him brandishing their Griever-swords and yelling hysterically. When the hell had they got there?

"THIS WAY, MINHO!" P.F. yelled. Minho didn't think twice. He made a sharp u-turn and rounded the corner where P.F. was. Dalton was drawing the Griever away down a different path. He still didn't see Elizabeth.

"Where…when…" he managed. P.F. shook his head and started running beside him.

"Stupid Minho. You guys really should have told us what was going on."

Minho looked behind him. He didn't see anything, but he could still hear the clatter of the Griever's legs.

"Where'd the second one go?" he asked.

"It got trapped behind one of the walls when it moved," P.F. said.

"Where is Elizabeth? Did you see her?" Minho worried that maybe she wasn't able to make it out of the ivy.

"I saw her," P.F. said, "but she was slower, and the one Griever was pretty much on top of her so she had to face it a couple times. She's behind the wall that closed."

Behind the wall that closed. With the other Griever. Alone. Minho let out a frustrated scream.

"We can't go back, now," P.F. said. His voice was grim. "Dalton's leading the other one off. Our goal now is to get back to the Glade."

Minho slowed, his breathing heavy. P.F. slowed on instinct, but didn't look at him.

"S-stop." Minho said between gasps. He stopped and bent over, grabbing his knees. "STOP."

P.F. stopped. His fists were clenched.

"We need…to see if…we can find…"

"Find what, Minho? Another Griever? Those two shucking kids who thought they could laugh their way around the shucking Maze? Hate to break it to you, but they're dead." P.F.'s voice was raising. "They're _dead_ , Minho. And we'll be dead, too if we stop. Hell, maybe we're _already_ dead. The door's probably already closed."

"P.F.—"

"Don't even try giving me some stupid, klunky excuse about how you didn't have enough time to tell us what you were trying to do. Next time you go gallivanting in the Maze for some deadheads do Dalton and I a favor, and let us know." P.F.'s face was red with anger and something else, something that seemed to Minho to be frightened.

"I did. I couldn't find you," Minho said, his own voice angry. P.F. 'tsked.

"Yeah? _I was in my shucking_ _shack_!" P.F. slammed his fist against the wall, "Look a little harder next time!"

Minho didn't answer. He started running again, because he couldn't talk any more. P.F. was right: this was a mistake.

"Don't you get it?" P.F. was right there, beside him like always, "We're in this together. All of us."

Minho wasn't cheered by the statement. It was something he already knew. "Live together, die together," was something Nick had said in the beginning, but that was just it. Minho didn't want to live in Glade together. He was tired of it. He was tired of everybody. But he didn't want to die together, either.

He didn't want to die at all.

* * *

 ***Special Author's Note**

 **I'm currently in the process of moving and dealing with the death of two of my loved ones. The next chapter may take as long as this one did to get up, or longer, depending. Thank you for your patience, and for your support.**


	32. S2-Ep12: The Strong Get Going

**Season Two, Episode Twelve: The Strong Get Going**

* * *

Immediately after the door had closed, separating Elizabeth from Minho and the others, the Griever that had been trying to mow her down let out a guttural scream It swatted its leg and threw her to the ground where she fell painfully on her shoulder. Thankfully her head thwacked against her arm instead of the pavement, but the whole experience was jarring. The world swayed around her, colors mixing into one another as she struggled to find the strength to get back up. In the midst of her daze she thought she could hear a person crying nearby. The Griever charged again, and she rolled out of the way just before its stinger stabbed her, and rolled a second time when it tried again. Her head was swimming; each breathe felt like a struggle. _It would be so easy to simply give up, now,_ she thought. _It would be so easy to let go._

The Griever backed up and Elizabeth raised her head to see another layer of vines and leaves against the wall. Maybe the same ones she and Minho had hid in before. The Griever bore down on her again, and at the last minute, she heaved herself forward and rolled into the bushes, her shoulder and chest both screaming in protest. Something sharp dragged itself across her arm and she brought it to her chest, feeling a sudden cool against her hot skin.

 _Elizabeth._

It hurt so much…it felt like she was going to throw up. She closed her eyes and pressed her back up against the wall, the coolness of it soothing on her skin. The Griever shrieked and the vines shook. She was so lost. Minho and P.F. were long gone, and so were Damon and Stoy. It was so foolish of them to have entered the maze alone, and maybe it was foolish of Elizabeth for going in to find them.

 _Elizabeth._

Newt. Elizabeth let out a sob as the voice of the man she loved echoed in her mind-his sweet face and boyish freckles and the way he smiled at her…everything about him.

 _I love you. Always._

She loved him, too. She loved him with all of the love in her heart, and there was no explaining it. She would not go down without a fight; she would not allow herself to miss another chance to be with him. _All_ of them. Gally and Dalton and Nick and Tyn and Minho and Zart and Frypan and everyone else. _She would not leave without saying goodbye._

With newfound resolve, Elizabeth pushed up against the wall and sat up with a grunt of pain. Her head swam when she opened her eyes, but sheer determination got her on her feet. The Griever was screeching and still scurrying around out there, but it almost seemed to be losing interest. Elizabeth waited for an opening. After a pregnant pause, the Griever suddenly let out a guttural sound from the depths of its throat and turned around, its attention elsewhere. Elizabeth saw her chance, and took it. She crashed out of the vines and ran in the opposite direction of the Griever. When she risked turning around, the beast stood frozen, its eyes dark and glassy, mouth open in a silent scream. She could hear whirring sounds, but otherwise it almost seemed…dead. Whatever had happened, Elizabeth didn't want to push her luck, or whatever it was that was helping her—for good or worse. She pushed herself as much as she could, but she wasn't going nearly as fast as she would be if her lungs weren't burning so terribly. Black spots swarmed in her vision, but she pressed on, determined to make it to the gate that was probably already closed, anyway.

 _I will get to you, Newt. No matter what happens, I_ will _find you._

* * *

When Minho and P.F. ran through the gate, they were swarmed with other Gladers. Jeff and Clint immediately began fretting over Minho's injuries, and a flurry of interrogations broke out.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Did you find them?"

"Where are Damon and Stoy?"

"Who's bloody idea was this?"

"Are you slintheads okay?"

"Leo!" Nick snapped his fingers and the small boy stepped out from the jumble and stumbled towards the Glade leader. Nick jabbed a thumb at Newt.

"He says you know what's going on," he said, "is that true?"

Leo gulped and looked at Newt, who wasn't glaring at him, exactly, but had a very stern expression on his face.

"I-I'm sorry!" he finally choked out. "I didn't think this would happen!"

"What are you talking about?" Nick grabbed the boy by his shoulders and shook him, his face getting redder by the minute. "SPEAK, DAMN IT!"

"Damon and Stoy…they went in the Maze," Leo's voice was shaky, but strong. He forced himself to keep eye-contact with Nick. "I told Elizabeth and she—"

"Elizabeth?" Newt interrupted, his face pinching in confusion.

Now Leo dropped his gaze, feeling the heat of guilt upon his face. "She went in there with Minho to find them and—"

Newt interrupted him again. "Elizabeth is in the Maze?" His face paled and he fell back a step, as if he'd been hit. At his words, a hush fell over the Gladers.

"That can't be right," Gally said, "Elizabeth went to bed."

Again, a shudder of guilt passed through Leo's body. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. Nick released his hold on him.

"It isn't the kid's fault," P.F.'s voice broke through the silence. "He told Dalton and I and we let Alby know we were going in the Maze," his eyes sought out someone in the circle and rested on Chris. "Apparently the whole thing was Chris's idea."

At the mention on Chris's name, Newt let out a shout and stomped over to the dark-haired boy, who, to his credit looked just as surprised as the rest of them.

"Wait a minute! I didn't tell them to go into the Maze!" Cbr protested, for once sounding hurt by the others scrutiny. Newt didn't say anything when he came to a stop in front of Chris. His hands were fists at his side and he was shaking with something uncontained, but all he did was stare at the other boy.

"P.F., where is Dalton?" Nick asked. P.F.'s face fell and he shook his head.

"I-he-" his voice cut off and he turned away from Nick, his head bowed and his hand coming up to his face.

Minho stepped in front of him and said: "He led some Grievers away from us so we could get out. I haven't seen him, but," he stopped to look back at P.F. "He sacrificed himself to save us."

Nick ran a shaky hand through his hair and silently cursed the universe. Nobody moved or talked until Gally stepped forward. A shadow had passed over his face, and it gave a dark effect to his disposition that chilled even Nick to his bones.

"We can't stand around and do nothing," he said, his voice eerily calm. His eyes found Nick's in the growing darkness, almost glowing against the dim light of the sun behind the walls of the Maze. "What do we do?"

It was the first time Gally had ever looked to him as leader; the first time he'd publicly addressed him as such. Nick felt a twinge of pride—and something else, too. He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders.

"No one else goes into the Maze," he said. "Get Minho to the medic hut, and take the greenie and P.F. with you. Alby and Newt," he turned to his right-hand two. "I want you here with me. We'll stand guard at the entrance in case any of them come back out."

He looked over at Gally, and gave him a small nod. "Gally too," he said.

While he was talking, Zart put an arm around P.F.'s shoulder and gently propelled him forward, neither ignoring his friend's half-yelling, half-sobbing protests nor encouraging them.

"The rest of you can go about your normal business," Nick said. A few of the Gladers started heading back, but some were keen on lingering, especially the ones who felt closest with those still in the Maze.

"You can't expect us to go to bed like nothing is happening!" Tyn shouted, his glasses falling off his face with the force behind his words.

"Relax, Tyn. He didn't say you have to sleep right away," Alby said. Nick rolled his eyes and turned his back on the shank. He didn't need this right now, especially not when Frypan and Louis and some of the others started hashing out protests as well. Alby was better at dealing with social ineptitudes, anyway.

Gally was talking to Newt in a hushed voice, and Nick was surprised that Newt was holding himself together so well. There was a constant look of panic on his face, and he was fidgeting and blinking his eyes a lot, but otherwise hadn't broken down. Gally talking to him appeared to be helping, at least a little. When Gally put a hand on Newt's shoulder and told him to "keep it together," Nick felt it again: the something-other-than-pride, and this time he recognized what it was.

Respect.

* * *

"Keep it together," Gally said, his hand on Newt's shoulder. Newt surprised him by giving a quick nod. He looked sick, but there was still hope in his eyes. Gally knew he wasn't the best at dealing with extreme emotions, but what little comfort he could provide he was willing to give.

"Gally," Newt whispered, his voice cracking.

"Yeah?"

"I'll be okay."

Gally blinked in response. He wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to react to this, because of _course_ the shank wouldn't be okay.

"I mean it, Gally," Newt smiled. He still looked nervous, but Gally found himself believing what he said.

"Good that," Gally said.

They stopped talking after that, but remained standing together at the Maze's entrance. Far away, they heard the screech of an angry Griever, and Nick stomped over to talk to Alby and Tyn, who refused to leave.

"I thought I told you to get out of here, shank!" Nick said. Tyn pushed his glasses up.

"I didn't listen," he said.

What in reality was only a few minutes felt like hours to Gally as they stood there, waiting. He didn't mean to be so affected when the doors started closing, but he let out a groan when he heard the familiar creak of the old doors moving. And then, suddenly, Tyn was running through them.

"There she is!" he yelled as Alby tried to reach out and pull him back. "I see her!"

Sure enough, when Gally looked again, he could make out a hobbling figure, blonde hair bright in the growing darkness. He grabbed Newt's arm when he bolted forward.

"Elizabeth!" Tyn yelled.

She was so close. So close, Gally could see the pain in her eyes as she propelled herself forward. The doors were halfway closed when she crossed the barrier into the Glade, just as a Griever came in screaming from the left, baring its teeth and poising its stinger for attack.

Everybody started screaming; Newt was shouting a lot of 'bloody's in Gally's ear as he held him in place, Alby and Nick were screaming and yelling at the sight of the Griever. It all happened so fast; Tyn raced forward, shoving Elizabeth out of the way just as the stinger came down and the doors slammed shut, crushing the Griever between the doors in an explosion of slime and metal body parts.

Newt wrenched himself free from Gally and flew to Elizabeth's side. She was on her knees vomiting and crying.

"Tyn!" she sobbed in-between heaves. Newt was gentle when he drew her hair back and gathered her in his arms.

"Shank's been stung!" Nick cursed. He and Alby were holding Tyn down as he writhed in pain from the wound on his back. Gally joined Newt with Elizabeth, and they waited patiently until their friends were able to calm down. Elizabeth stopped retching and sank back into Newt. He held her close and kissed her dirty cheeks.

"Why?" she whispered, barely audible. "Why did you do it?"

Tyn wasn't close enough to have heard her, but all the same he used the last of his strength to say, "You would do the same for me."

"Idiot!" Even in her weak state, Elizabeth's voice was full of anguish and frusteration. She held out the arm that she'd been holding close to her chest, shaking. There was a deep gash from her armpit to inner elbow. Already the effects of the Griever's poison could be seen with the black, swirling veins that originated from the gash and spread to her wrist.

"I've already been stung!" she cried. She turned her face into Newt's shirt and her eyes fluttered close.


End file.
